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ROBERT  SWASEY 


KENDALL'S  SISTER 


"  I  want  you  to  know  —  you  have  got  to  know  —  that  I 
love  you. "     FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  185. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER 


BY 


ROBERT  SWASEY 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 

RALPH  P.  COLEMAN 


NON-REFERT 

1 


•  ens 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1922 


Copyright,  1922, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND,  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  February,  1922 


TO 

MY  MOTHER 


2138283 


KENDALL'S  SISTER 


CHAPTER  I 

Conversation  around  the  dinner  table  in  the 
Kendall  home  had  not  been  flowing  with  its  usual 
ease;  and  a  remark  from  the  gentleman  whom  Flor- 
ence Wainwright,  the  hostess,  had  met  for  the  first 
time  that  evening,  to  the  effect  that  he  always  liked 
lavender  gowns  on  ladies,  "especially  the  color  of 
the  one  you  have  on  which  suits  you  first-rate" — 
referring  thus  directly  to  Mrs.  Wainwright  and 
what  she  was  wearing — caused  a  distinct  pause  in 
the  proceedings.  There  had  been  a  number  of  these 
pauses;  and  Max  Kendall,  Florence's  brother,  was 
beginning  to  wish  that  he  had  not  invited  Jim  De- 
lane,  his  partner  in  business,  to  dinner  with  him- 
self and  his  sister  at  their  Marlborough  Street  home. 

Mrs.  Wainwright,  who  looked  extremely  well  in 
her  pale  violet  gown  and  not  a  day  older  than  thirty- 
five,  which  was  her  age,  rose  to  the  occasion  with 
a  quietly  murmured,  "It  is  a  pretty  color,  isn't  it?" 
— realizing  at  the  same  time  that  however  clever  this 
good-looking  young  man  might  be  in  a  business  way, 
he  certainly  had  much  to  learn  in  the  sixth,  or 
social,  sense. 

The  little  group  at  the  table  consisted  of  Florence 


2  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Wainwright,  her  brother  Max,  Constance  Floyd, 
who  was  a  friend  of  Florence,  and  Delane.  Mrs. 
Wainwright  had  purposely  arranged  not  to  have 
anything  like  a  formal  dinner  party  for  the  night 
her  brother  should  bring  Delane  to  the  house,  as 
neither  of  them  was  too  sure  of  what  impres- 
sion the  gentleman  might  make  when  taken  out  of 
his  milieu,  which  was  business  spelled  with  a  capital 
"B."  This  was  the  first  time  that  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright had  met  the  young  man  of  whom  she  had 
heard  so  much,  and  her  misgivings  were  proving 
correct.  Delane  was  good-humored,  good-looking 
in  a  usual  sort  of  way;  and  his  manners  did  not 
belie  his  looks.  He  -meant  what  he  said,  but  in  his 
embarrassment  he  became  a  trifle  more  emphatic  in 
his  effort  to  please  than  is  considered  strictly  good 
form  in  the  most  correct  circles. 

"I  don't  mean  to  say,"  began  Miss  Floyd,  to  break 
the  pause  which  had  followed  Delane's  last  remark, 
"that  you  don't  try  to  seek  and  remedy  the  causes 
of  poverty;  but  I  think  it  is  too  much  outside  the 
grasp  of  your  usual  course  of  life  for  you  to  do 
much  to  alleviate  the  evil  by  merely  stirring  up  the 
surface." 

This  was  in  reference  to  something  that  had  been 
said  about  Mrs.  Wainwright's  work  in  the  slums. 

"So  you  think  my  visits  to  the  South  End  cause 
only  a  ripple  on  the  surface,"  Florence  laughed. 

"Yes,  I  am  afraid  I  do,"  Miss  Floyd  returned. 

"Why  be  afraid?"  Max  Kendall  put  in.  "It  is 
just  what  I  have  been  telling  Florence  for  a  year. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  3 

I  wish  she  would  chuck  the  whole  thing.  Would 
you  believe  it,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Delane,  "that 
this  pretty  sister  of  mine  has  been  out  the  whole 
afternoon  in  this  outrageous  weather  trying  to  locate 
an  old  woman  in  some  back  alley  with  seventeen 
children." 

"Seven,  my  dear,"  Florence  interrupted. 

"It's  all  the  same,"  Max  continued.  "You  get 
just  as  wet  hunting  up  seven  children  as  seventeen." 

"But  how  do  you  hear  of  these  weird  places?" 
Miss  Floyd  asked. 

"I  am  working  at  present  with  a  committee  on  the 
housing  problem,"  Florence  replied  quite  seriously. 
"Since  the  overcrowded  condition  of  our  cities  has 
existed  and  the  lack  of  available  living  quarters, 
there  is  a  congestion  and  cramming  of  tenements 
and  lodging  houses  which  is  not  only  very  bad  from 
the  point  of  view  of  health  but  rather  dangerous 
as  far  as  the  morals  of  the  community  are  con- 
cerned." 

Florence,  coming  home  late  to  dinner  with  very 
wet  feet  and  considerably  tired — as  she  herself  con- 
fessed— had  caused  a  discussion  as  to  just  how  much 
of  real  service  a  person  situated  in  life  as  Mrs. 
Wainwright  was  could  be  in  settlement  house  or 
social  welfare  work. 

For  a  year,  ever  since  her  return  from  France, 
she  had  been  devoting  herself  with  untiring  faith  to 
the  cause  of  the  poor;  and  the  longer  she  worked 
in  the  slums  and  the  better  she  knew  the  conditions, 
the  more  lively  became  her  enthusiasm.  At  first  it 


4  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

had  been  merely  a  question  of  something  to  divert 
her  mind  after  her  four  years  of  hospital  work  in 
the  war  and  her  husband's  death  at  the  front.  Like 
many  other  women,  she  could  not  slip  back  from 
the  arduous  labors  and  unceasing  work  of  the  past 
few  years  into  the  idleness  and  pettiness  of  ordinary 
everyday  life.  From  conducting  sewing  classes  at 
one  of  the  mission  schools  and  teaching  girls  to  read 
the  English  language,  Florence  had  gone  on  steadily 
to  the  really  bigger  phases  of  settlement-house  work; 
and  at  this  time  she  was  carrying  on  investigations, 
in  connection  with  committees  in  other  large  cities, 
as  to  the  matter  of  adequate  and  proper  housing  of 
the  poor, — a  thing  becoming  every  day  more  im- 
portant as  city  populations  swelled  and  houses  dwin- 
dled to  the  vanishing  point.  There  was  extra 
work  for  her  now  due  to  the  enormous  amount  of 
unemployment  which  was  the  direct  result  of  ruth- 
less profiteering  on  the  part  of  manufacturers,  caus- 
ing a  tremendous  overstocking  of  goods  of  every 
description  which  the  public  either  had  refused  or 
been  unable  to  purchase  at  the  prevailing  high 
prices. 

The  former  years  of  Florence  Kendall's  life  had 
been  very  different  from  the  activities  of  her  pres- 
ent days.  She  had  been  married  under  the  hap- 
piest circumstances  to  a  man  who  worshiped  her. 
Jack  Wainwright  and  his  wife  went  to  Paris  to 
live.  Florence  had  been  educated  in  France,  and  as 
Wainwright's  business  called  him  there,  the  situa- 
tion was  a  very  pleasant  one  for  both  of  them. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  5 

They  settled  down  in  what  one  might  call  connubial 
bliss,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  no  children  appeared 
on  the  scene;  but  of  course  that  has  nothing  to  do 
in  these  progressive  days  with  happiness  in  the  mar- 
ried state.  But  the  happy  life  in  Paris,  like  a 
thousand  other  similar  arrangements,  was  all  to 
end  in  the  cataclysm  of  the  war.  Jack  had  taken 
up  the  study  of  aviation  in  the  early  days  of  that 
sport.  Florence  opposed  it,  thinking  flying  far  too 
dangerous  to  be  indulged  in  for  mere  fun  of  the 
thing,  much  as  one  plays  tennis  or  golf.  Wain- 
wright,  however,  went  into  the  sport  head  over  heels, 
which  was  literally  true,  as  he  became  something  of 
an  expert  in  the  flying  game.  Then  the  war  began ; 
and  it  was  a  very  quick  step,  or  rather  flight,  into 
the  serious  business  of  the  aviation  corps.  The 
always  dashing  and  exceedingly  good-looking  Jack 
made  a  very  smart  officer  as  a  member  of  the  La- 
fayette Escadrille;  and  his  wife  was  duly  proud  of 
him.  Of  course  the  dangers  of  flying  seemed  much 
more  remote  to  her  when  one  was  up  in  the  air 
With  bombs  and  things  whizzing  about  than  in  the 
old  days  when  she  held  her  breath  as  her  husband 
calmly  sailed  over  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  and  the 
suburbs  beyond.  Florence,  meantime,  had  become 
a  nurse;  first  at  the  big  hospital  at  Neuilly-sur- 
Seine  and  later  in  the  ones  nearer  the  battle  front. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  war  she  had  known  the 
harrowing  work  of  the  advanced  dressing  stations. 
And  it  was  not  until  nearly  the  end  of  the  war  that 
Jack  Wainwright  was  killed  when  flying  at  night 


6  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

over  the  German  lines.  Florence  was  inconsolable. 
In  the  old  days  before  1914  she  probably  would  have 
collapsed.  Instead,  after  the  Armistice  she  re- 
turned to  Paris  and  tried  to  pick  up  the  threads  of 
her  life  in  some  small  way,  still  doing  valuable 
work  of  one  sort  or  another  for  the  war  sufferers. 
But  the  recollection  of  the  happy  times  in  Paris  was 
too  keen.  Besides,  she  remembered  that  her  brother, 
also  returned  from  service,  was  at  home  alone 
in  the  old  Marlborough  Street  house.  She  felt 
that  her  place  was  in  Boston,  her  duty  to  be  met 
there  rather  than  in  the  varied  and  extended  work 
which  she  might  continue  to  do  in  France. 

In  the  spring  of  1919  she  came  back  to  America 
and  settled  down  with  her  brother.  Florence's  par- 
ents had  been  dead  many  years,  and  it  seemed  a 
pleasant  and  wholly  desirable  arrangement  that  she 
should  make  a  home  for  her  bachelor  brother.  The 
first  few  months  in  Boston,  however,  had  been  very 
dreary  for  her.  She  did  not  care  to  go  about  so- 
cially, and  Max  Kendall  had  never  been  inclined  to 
that  sort  of  thing.  And  then  Florence  realized  how 
difficult  it  was  to  go  from  an  active  life  of  high 
purpose  with  the  enthralling  work  that  went  with 
it,  into  a  life  the  purpose  of  which,  however  high, 
had  as  its  only  expression  long  evenings  by  the 
fireside  with  Max  or  an  informal  party  and  game  of 
bridge,  both  things  meaning  rather  fearful  boredom 
to  the  young  widow.  Her  nerves,  like  the  nerves 
of  so  many  other  women  fresh  from  war  work,  had 
not  stopped  vibrating.  Would  the  nerves  of  any 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  7 

one  ever  calm  down  again  to  the  old  placidity  of 
life?  Florence  had  friends  who  dabbled  in  social 
service  work  at  the  Peabody  House  and  other  sim- 
ilar institutions.  She  became  interested  in  their 
pursuits.  From  that  she  had  gone  on  to  her  pres- 
ent labors,  which  took  nearly  every  moment  of  her 
time  and  filled  her  life  with  a  new  incentive. 

To-night,  the  rather  -superficial  Constance  Floyd 
had  insisted  that  Florence  had  not  got  any  deeper 
into  the  matter  in  spite  of  her  enthusiasm.  Miss 
Floyd  belonged  to  that  large  group  of  persons  who 
think  the  poor  cannot  be  assisted  from  without; 
any  lasting  effect  upon  their  condition  must  be  an 
outgrowth  from  within. 

"But  the  poor  cannot  help  themselves,"  Florence 
pleaded. 

"You  will  admit  they  are  their  own  worst  en- 
emies," Miss  Floyd  went  on. 

"Yes;  and  who  of  us  is  not?"  Max  put  in,  com- 
ing to  the  aid  of  his  sister. 

"The  condition  of  poverty  is  something  inside  a 
man,"  Delane  said. 

Max  and  Miss  Floyd  looked  at  each  other,  smil- 
ing, wondering  how  Florence  would  take  this. 

Delane  continued,  "I  mean  one  .man  is  inclined 
to  poverty  just  as  another  chap  has  the  strength  of 
character  anti  will  power  which  keep  him  on  the  top 
of  things.  Of  course  you  can  buy  coal  and  wood 
for  the  down-and-outs  and  teach  the  children  to 
wash  their  faces,  but  how  are  you  going  to  alter 
any  one's  character  by  doing  that?" 


8  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"It  seems  to  me  that  in  these  days  of  the  high 
cost  of  living,  people  like  ourselves  are  the  only  real 
down-and-outs,"  Max  interrupted. 

"It  is  like  this,"  Delane  began  again.  "You 
know  lots  of  men  who  lounge  about  clubs  and  are 
able  to  do  little  more  than  spend  their  income;  but 
their  friends  say  they  are  jolly  good  fellows.  Well, 
the  loafer  that  used  to  sit  half  the  evening  in  the 
corner  saloon  over  his  five-cent  glass  of  beer  and 
dirty  sheet  of  newspaper  is  your  club  man  of  the 
slums.  They  are  birds  of  a  feather." 

After  the  difficulty  which  Delane  had  had  earlier 
in  the  evening  with  the  small  talk  of  the  dinner 
table,  it  was  very  interesting  to  Max  to  hear  him 
coming  out  with  such  definite  ideas.  He  looked 
across  at  his  sister  with  an  approving  expression, 
"You  see,  in  spite  of  your  notion  of  him,  this 
friend  and  partner  of  mine  is  not  such  a  bore  as 
you  thought  him." 

"It  is  simply  my  own  personal  belief  that  little 
can  be  done  in  curing  this  disease  of  poverty  while 
the  souls  of  men  are  what  they  are,"  Miss  Floyd 
said  suddenly,  having  a  feeling  that  Delane  was 
about  to  walk  off  with  her  own  pet  theory,  and  that 
it  was  quite  time  for  her  to  get  back  into  the  con- 
versation. She  had  not  cared  much  for  Mr.  Delane 
since  he  made  the  "-faux  pas"  about  Florence's  gown. 

"Then  it  is  our  business  to  change  the  souls  of 
men,"  Florence  replied. 

"How  are  you  going  to  do  it?"  Max  asked. 
"Never,  in  my  opinion,  by  merely  building  better 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  9 

homes  for  the  bodies  of  men  and  giving  them  purer 
food  and  warmer  clothing." 

"Cheaper  food  would  be  more  to  the  point," 
Delane  broke  in. 

"But  aren't  we  what  we  are  on  account  of  the 
generations  of  suitable  environment  which  we  have 
had?"  Florence  asked.  "It  is  monstrous  to  say 
that  improving  the  actual  living  conditions  of  peo- 
ple does  not  better  the  people  themselves." 

"Some  of  us  are  very  little  better  because  of  our 
environment,"  Delane  said  quietly.  "You  often 
hear  of  sons  of  excellent  families  who  go  smash  be- 
cause their  souls  aren't  right." 

Florence  looked  quickly  at  her  friend  Constance. 
This  was  awkward  ground,  as  Miss  Floyd's  life 
had  been  nearly  ruined  by  a  scapegrace  brother  who 
squandered  the  family  money  and  after  a  wild  ca- 
reer on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  passed  into  obliv- 
ion somewhere  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 

"But  those  cases  can  have  little  to  do  with  pro- 
viding soup  kitchens  for  the  poor,"  Miss  Floyd  said, 
laughing. 

"You  are  very  old-fashioned,  my  dear,"  Florence 
put  in.  "Since  the  closing  of  the  saloons,  soup  kit- 
chens have  become  almost  a  relic  of  the  past.  Even 
some  of  the  cheap  lodging  houses — the  hotels  where 
the  homeless  man  of  former  days  could  obtain  a  bed 
for  twenty-five  cents — have  closed  down  because  of 
lack  of  patronage." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  Miss  Floyd  replied,  as 
the  little  group  arose  from  the  dinner  table.  "It 


io  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

makes  one  believe  that  we  are  approaching  the  mil- 
lenium,  does  it  not  ?" 

The  tone  of  sarcasm  in  her  voice  displeased  De- 
lane  who,  struck  with  admiration  for  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright,  felt  he  must  take  up  the  cudgels  in  her  de- 
fense. 

"We  will  never  get  there,"  he  said,  "until  every 
one  takes  hold, — the  lookers-on  as  well  as  the 
workers." 

Over  the  coffee  in  the  drawing-room  the  conversa- 
tion took  a  lighter  turn ;  and  then  Kendall  went  with 
Delane  into  his  study  to  talk  over  some  business  mat- 
ters. These  two  men  were  so  absorbed  in  the  subject 
of  land  development  in  a  certain  outlying  district  of 
the  city  that  their  thoughts,  whether  in  the  daytime 
or  after  office  hours  at  night,  seldom  roamed  from 
the  topic. 

A  franchise  was  discussed  which  was  likely  to  be 
granted  by  the  next  legislature  to  a  certain  railway 
company,  in  order  that  this  company  might  lay  its 
tracks  through  the  place  where  the  land  holdings 
were-.  Crofton,  whom  Delane  mentioned,  was  a 
member  of  the  State  legislature  from  Boston;  an 
Irishman  with  an  unlimited  gift  of  talk  which,  in 
combination  with  a  massive  lower  jaw,  had  won  for 
him  many  causes  political  and  otherwise.  Delane 
stood  well  with  the  Crofton  crowd,  and  Max  was 
trusting  largely  to  his  influence  in  this  quarter  to 
bring  the  matter  of  the  franchise  to  a  successful  con- 
clusion. After  a  most  promising  talk  and  feeling 
that  things  never  had  looked  brighter  for  them,  Ken- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  u 

dall  opened  a  bottle  of  Scotch  which  he  had  ob- 
tained a  few  days  before  through  the  channels  which 
have  become  so  popular  in  these  dry  days  for  the 
sale  and  traffic  in  liquor. 

Miss  Floyd,  left  alone  with  Florence,  wanted  to 
know  more  about  Delane.  She  had  heard  in  a 
vague  sort  of  way  about  Max  going  into  business 
with  a  very  rich  and  successful  person  who,  it  was 
supposed,  would  accomplish  great  things.  Like 
Florence,  she  had  never  met  him  until  to-night. 

"How  did  Max  happen  to  know  him?"  she  asked. 

"It  was  one  of  those  things  that  just  happened," 
Florence  said.  "A  year  ago  wie  were  in  an  awful 
hole  financially.  Max  owned  a  big  piece  of  land  in 
one  of  the  suburbs  which  was  not  developing,  and 
he  did  not  have  the  money  to  do  anything  with  it  by 
himself.  The  taxes  were  an  awful  drain  on  our 
already  diminished  resources ;  and  as  Max  was  unable 
to  sell,  things  looked  pretty  black.  At  one  time 
we  thought  we  must  give  up  this  place." 

Miss  Floyd  gave  a  little  gasp  of  sympathy  at 
the  possibility  of  such  a  dreadful  event,  as  the 
Kendall  house  on  Marlborough  Street  was  distinctly 
one  of  the  substantial  homes  of  the  city,  and  the 
Kendalls  themselves  no  less  substantial  in  the 
Boston  world. 

Mrs.  Wainwright  continued,  "T.hen  Delane 
appeared  on  the  scene,  very  rich  and  ready  to  go  in 
with  Max  in  this  land  scheme.  Of  course  I  did  not 
know  him,  but  I  have  told  my  brother  it  was  only 
decent  to  ask  him  to  the  house  some  night  even  if 


12  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

there  is  bound  to  be  very  little  in  common  between 
us  outside  of  the  business  connection." 

"Surely  there  were  men  of  Max's  own  class  who 
would  have  furnished  him  with  the  necessary  cap- 
ital," Constance  interrupted. 

"Possibly,"  Florence  answered.  "But  those  men 
seldom  dare  to  take  big  risks  and  have  not  always  the 
proper  influences  to  pull  through  such  schemes  as 
this.  Delane,  being  an  Irishman,  has  power  in  the 
political  world.  He  expects  to  get  an  electric  car 
line  put  through  this  property,  which  of  course  will 
mean  its  success." 

"I  see,"  Constance  remarked  vaguely;  "Max  and 
Delane  hold  the  land  together." 

"Yes,  I  believe  so,"  Florence  continued.  "My 
brother  had  to  mortgage  it  to  Delane,  owing  to 
his  financial  straits;  but  it  is  a  sort  of  partnership, 
and  the  two  men  will  share  equally  in  the  profits. 
It  looks  most  promising  at  present.  They  have 
taken  an  office  in  State  Street  and  are  known  as  the 
Greenvale  Holding  Company.  Greenvale  is  the 
name  of  the  new  settlement.  Just  now  the  place  is 
a  wide  tract  of  gray  barren  land  with  the  usual  de- 
jected appearance  of  the  outskirts  of  a  great  city; 
scarcely  a  green  vale,  as  Max  says  there  isn't  a  blade 
of  grass  on  the  premises,  the  whole  thing  being  a 
wilderness  of  ash  cans  and  stagnant  pools  of  water; 
but  all  that  will  be  changed,  and  the  desert  will  blos- 
som." 

"I  certainly  hope  so,"  Miss  Floyd  said  a  little 
dubiously,  thinking  to  herself  that  a  place  as  dismal 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  13 

as  the  one  her  friend  had  described  might  need  a 
good  deal  of  blossoming  before  the  dividends  would 
grow. 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Florence  said,  "It 
was  largely  on  this  account — that  the  prospects  look 
so  bright  now — that  Max  wanted  to  have  Delane 
here." 

"But  I  should  think  anything  Max  wants  to  do  for 
him  in  the  social  line  could  be  managed  at  his  club." 

"Oh,  he  has  done  a  lot  in  that  way.  Max  got  him 
into  one  of  his  clubs.  Delane  is  rather  liked  on  State 
Street;  men  don't  object  to  his  sort  of  gaucherie." 

"I  suppose  his  family  is  quite  impossible,"  Miss 
Floyd  pursued. 

"Probably,"  Florence  answered.  "He  has  a 
mother  and  a  very  rich  father  in  the  tobacco  bus- 
iness. They  spend  their  summers  at  an  unfashion- 
able place  on  Cape  Cod.  There  is  also  a  sister  who 
is  a  bit  of  a  flyaway  from  what  I  have  heard.  Max 
says  his  house  in  Dorchester  is  a  model  of  every- 
thing a  house  should  not  be.  It  is  furnished  and 
decorated  like  a  Pullman  car." 

"Thoroughly  dull,"  Constance  interposed. 

"I  don't  deny  it,"  Florence  went  on;  "but  we 
must  be  nice  to  him.  We  must  accept  him  for  what 
he  is.  You  see  it  is  a  matter  of  bread  and  butter 
for  us." 

Just  then  the  two  men  came  back.  Florence  had 
a  better  chance  now  to  really  see  Delane,  as  he  stood 
rather  ill  at  ease  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  not  quite 
sure  which  chair  he  would  take  or  what  he  should 


i4  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

say,  than  she  had  had  during  dinner,  as  he  sat  at  her 
side  in  the  dimly  lighted  dining  room. 

Delane  was  tall  and  very  straight  and  had  dark 
hair,  rather  curly  over  the  forehead.  His  nose  was 
inclined  to  be  retrousse,  but  his  mouth  and  chin  were 
clean-cut  and  firm.  In  all,  rather  a  good  figure  of 
a  man,  with  broad  shoulders  and  well-built  body. 
His  clothes  were  too  aggressively  smart  to  be  exactly 
in  good  taste,  and  the  diamond  ring  on  his  hand  and 
diamond  and  pearl  scarf-pin  a  little  flamboyant ;  but 
these  things  belonged  essentially  to  the  type, — 
Delane  suggested  the  large  and  brilliant  effect  both 
in  clothes  and  jewelry. 

He  sat  down  near  Florence,  while  Miss  Floyd 
and  Max  chatted  quietly  in  another  part  of  the  room. 

"You  and  my  brother  are  so  closely  connected  in 
your  interests,"  Florence  began,  "that  it  is  a  pity  we 
have  not  seen  you  here  before." 

Delane,  sitting  very  straight  in  his  chair,  smiled 
broadly  and  said  that  he  often  had  meant  to  come  to 
see  Mrs.  Wainwright. 

"And  how  are  things  going?"  Florence  asked,  re- 
alizing that  her  only  sure  approach  to  this  man 
would  be  through  the  channel  of  his  every-day  af- 
fairs. 

"Never  better,"  Delane  replied  with  enthusiasm. 
"It  is  marvelous  what  we  are  going  to  do  with  that 
land." 

"How  wonderful  it  must  be,"  Florence  interposed, 
"to  have  a  great  venture  like  yours  to  swing  and  to 
see  things  going  as  you  wish." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  15 

"It  certainly  is,"  Delane  said.  "You  see,  our 
land  will  take  a  great  boom  as  soon  as  we  get  the 
railway  put  through  to  it.  The  electric  car  line 
stops  now  two  and  a  half  miles  this  side  of  Green- 
vale.  Of  course,  there  is  nothing  doing  until  the 
cars  go  out  there." 

"I  should  think  not,"  Florence  replied,  trying  to 
seem  as  interested  as  possible.  The  details  of  this 
land  venture  of  her  brother  had  always  been  rather 
hazy  to  her. 

"But  we  shall  win  out  in  the  end,  or  my  name  is 
not  Jim  Delane." 

His  easy  assurance  of  the  possibilities  of  the  thing 
were  so  typical  of  the  man,  and  so  little  like  Max, 
who  had  from  the  first  been  reticent  and  unassum- 
ing concerning  the  land  he  owned,  that  Florence  was 
somewhat  annoyed.  Certainly,  confidence  was  nec- 
essary— it  was  through  Delane' s  faith  in  the  scheme 
that  Max  had  been  able  to  go  forward — but  this  at- 
titude of  Delane  was  so  self-assured,  so  overcon- 
fident, as  it  seemed  to  Florence,  that  she  felt  a  little 
insecure  in  the  situation. 

"But  there  must  be  obstacles  to  overcome,"  she 
ventured. 

"Obstacles?  Certainly,"  Delane  replied  almost 
brusquely.  "But  what  are  obstacles  to  two  husky 
young  fellows  like  me  and  your  brother?  It  is  our 
object  to  overcome  them;  to*  make  Greenvale  a  big, 
hustling  suburb." 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  back  part  of  the 
room.  Miss  Floyd  came  forward  to  ask  if  she 


16  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

might  go  into  the  library  and  look  at  a  new  book 
of  war  etchings.  Evidently  the  social  attack  of 
Delane  was  too  much  for  her  sensitive  nature. 

"Of  course,"  Max  said.  "You  will  find  the  port- 
folio in  the  drawer  'of  the  big  table." 

Miss  Floyd  disappeared  with  quiet  nods  to  Flor- 
ence and  Delane. 

"Do  you  really  enjoy  your  settlement  work?" 
Delane  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  quite  absorbed  in  it,"  Florence 
replied  gayly. 

"I  am  afraid,"  Ddane  continued,  "that  all  this 
slumming  business  has  very  few  attractions  for  me. 
We  had  to  change  a  tire  on  my  machine  the  other 
night  over  in  one  of  those  dirty  streets  where  I  sup- 
pose your  work  takes  you,  and  I  assure  you  I  was 
glad  when  we  got  out.  Such  a  gang  of  hoodlums 
and  thugs  I  never  saw  as  gathered  around  my  car." 

Florence  smiled  placidly.  No  doubt  there  were 
abysses  in  the  man.  She  looked  at  Max  a  moment, 
a  certain  feeling  of  pity  coming  over  her  that  it  had 
been  necessary  for  him  to  become  associated  with 
Delane.  How  difficult  it  must  be,  she  thought,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  Max  liked  his  partner  and  al- 
ways said  he  was  "a  bully  good  sort."  She  would 
try  another  tack. 

"Do  you  care  for  music,  Mr.  Delane?"  she  asked. 
"My  friend  Miss  Floyd  sings  delightfully.  Like 
all  amateurs,  she  pretends  to  be  shy  about  it;  but 
perhaps  we  can  persuade  her  to  give  us  a  song." 

"I  guess  I  don't  know  much  about  music  beyond 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  17 

what  I  get  on  the  talking  machine,"  Delane 
responded.  "My  sister  has  got  a  mighty  fine  Vic- 
trola  made  like  a  table  in  one  of  those  French  pe- 
riods. It  matches  the  furniture  in  our  parlor  at 
home." 

"But  one  may  hear  excellent  music  in  that  way," 
Florence  went  on. 

"Yes;  you  can  if  you  want  to.  Ragtime  suits 
me  best." 

"I  am  with  you  there,"  Max  put  in. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  while  Delane  sat 
looking  at  Florence,  completely  taking  her  in,  as  it 
were.  He  had  no  intention  of  rudeness,  but  his 
very  pleasure  in  the  soft  shining  quality  of  her  per- 
sonality was  so  absorbing  to  him  that  he  little  real- 
ized how  his  interest  manifested  itself  in  a  too  ap- 
parent intentness. 

The  theater,  which  lately  had  offered  Boston  a 
medley  of  plays  dealing  for  the  most  part  with  bed- 
rooms and  mixed-up  married  couples — the  plots 
often  built  around  nothing  more  material  than  a 
lost  or  stolen  undergarment — was  touched  upon  by 
Florence  in  her  effort  to  lead  the  conversation  and 
stop  Delane's  contemplative  admiration  of  herself; 
but  to  little  effect.  It  was  not  so  much  that  Delane 
was  not  responsive;  but  his  eagerness  to  approach 
each  new  topic  with  enthusiasm,  however  casual  his 
interest  in  it,  struck  the  wrong  note  and  made  it 
impossible  for  Florence  to  swing  the  situation  with 
ease.  She  would  have  been  glad  if  Miss  Floyd  had 
returned.  The  conversation  dragged.  A  deadly 


i8  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

dullness  settled  upon  the  room,  which  Max  could  do 
little  to  lift,  not  being  a  fluent  talker. 

At  last,  looking  at  his  watch,  Delane  jumped  up. 

"I  have  to  meet  my  sister  at  ten  o'clock  at  the 
Back  Bay  station,"  he  said. 

After  the  formal  leave-taking,  a  hearty  grasp  of 
Kendall's  hand  and  the  wish,  from  Mrs.  Wainwright 
that  he  should  come  again  to  see  them,  Delane  got 
away  and  proceeded  in  a  very  new  and  elaborate 
limousine  to  the  station.  On  the  way  he  thought 
a  good  deal  of  the  dinner  party  and  his  introduction 
to  Florence  Wainwright.  She  represented  to  him 
a  totally  new  type  of  person.  She  was  quite  un- 
like what  he  had  supposed  she  would  be.  The  sim- 
plicity of  her  manner  and  graceful  hospitality  were 
in  direct  contradiction  to  what  had  always  been 
his  idea  of  so-called  smart  women, — or,  as  he 
would  have  said,  "Swells."  His  experiences  in 
society  had  been  mainly  among  over-dressed  women 
and  loud-voiced  men  encountered  in  the  social  gath- 
erings of  certain  friends  of  his  sister.  Florence 
did  not  fit  into  that  class  of  persons  at  all.  He  had 
dreaded  the  visit  to  Maryborough  Street  and  had 
delayed  it  as  long  as  he  thought  proper  after  Max's 
suggestion  that  he  should  "drop  in"  some  night.  A 
stereotyped  picture  of  the  "society  lady"  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  her  home,  familiar  to  him  from  novelettes 
in  the  ten-cent  all-story  magazines,  had  caused  this 
dread  of  approach  in  the  heart  of  the  young  finan- 
cier. To  find  Mrs.  Wainwright  a  most  charming 
person,  without  the  slightest  trace  of  affectation  or 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  19 

stand-offishness,  was  decidedly  disconcerting,  but 
very  pleasant  indeed ;  for  now  Delane  felt  he  would 
be  able  to  go  to  the  Kendall  home  as  often  as  he 
liked.  Certainly,  he  thought,  Mrs.  Wainwright 
meant  it  when  she  said  that  he  must  come  to  see  her 
again.  Perhaps  she  would  like  his  sister.  But 
here,  turning  into  the  cavernous  vault  of  the  station 
and  hearing  the  rumble  of  the  train  below,  his 
thoughts  on  the  subject  were  interrupted;  and  he 
hurried  down  the  broad  flight  of  stairs  to  the  train 
platform  to  greet  his  sister,  returning  resplendent  in 
furs  and  diamonds  from  a  shopping  trip  to  New 
York. 

It  was  necessary  that  a  somewhat  hearty  supper 
should  be  eaten  at  the  large  hotel  near  by  before  the 
return  home  was  undertaken,  as  Miss  Delane  had  had 
nothing  since  tea  at  the  Biltmore,  not  being  able  to 
abide  dining  cars.  Jim  Delane  talked  of  Max  and 
Florence, — especially  of  Florence ;  and  gave  a  rather 
glowing  picture  of  the  hospitality  shown  him  by  the 
Kendalls. 

"We  must  have  them  out  to  the  house  some 
night,"  Nora  Delane  said,  as  she  looked  over  the 
menu  to  find  something  to  eat  which  should  be  suf- 
ficiently showy  and  expensive. 

"Yes,"  Jim  said,  "I  was  thinking  about  that.  We 
ought  to  entertain  them  in  bang-up  style." 

"They  probably  won't  come,  though,"  continued 
Miss  Delane,  a  trifle  disgusted  at  finding  the  simplest 
things  on  the  card  so  high  in  price  that  the  time  had 
passed  when  you  could  splurge  a  bit  by  ordering  a 


20  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

rather  unusual  dish.     "They  are  all  snobs  at  heart," 
she  went  on. 

"Not  those  two,"  Jim  answered.     "Max  is  a  cork- 
ing fellow.     I  know  that  from  the  way  he  has  treated 
me  in  our  business  relations;  and  that  sister  of  his, 
Mrs.  Wainwright,  is  one  fine  girl." 
"I  suppose  she  had  a  swell  gown  on." 
"Well,  no,  that's  the  funny  part.     Her  dress  was 
pretty  enough,  but  nothing  like  as  nice  as  the  things 
you  wear,  Nora." 

"I'll  have  to  meet  her,  Jim." 
"Sure;  I'll  take  you  over  to  see  her  some  time." 
The  supper  was  finished,  the  motor  called,  and 
Delane  and  his  sister  whirled  back  to  Dorchester 
in  the  mud  and  rain,  splashing  numerous  people  on 
the  way. 


CHAPTER  II 

Florence  was  out  early  the  next  morning  to  join 
the  committee  of  three  of  the  Housing  Problem  As- 
sociation who  were  scheduled  to  inspect  a  group  of 
congested  lodging  houses  in  the  South  End  of  the 
city.  It  was  a  matter  somewhat  different  in  char- 
acter from  the  usual  slum  proposition,  as  this  dis- 
trict might  be  designated  the  underworld  of  the 
slums.  The  comparatively  healthy  poor  with  their 
hordes  of  children  in  the  North  End,  a  very  densely 
populated  section,  were  in  a  different  class  from 
these  dwellers  in  lodging  houses.  There  was  a  no- 
ticeable lack  of  children  in  these  quarters,  and  here 
the  smudge  of  poverty  was  emphasized  by  the  smear 
of  immorality. 

There  were  really  six  people  to  do  this  work, — 
the  name  "Committee  of  Three"  arising  from  some 
similar  group  which  had  carried  on  this  branch  of 
investigation  in  New  York.  In  Boston  there  was  a 
director  of  the  matter  in  hand,  called  over  from  New 
York  especially  for  it;  two  experienced  workers 
from  the  Trumbull  Square  House  in  close  consulta- 
tion with  the  head;  and  Florence  and  two  older 
women  from  the  Back  Bay  part  of  town  who  were 
perhaps  as  zealous  in  their  efforts  as  their  more  pro- 
fessional associates,  but  who  were  considered  rather 


22  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

in  the  light  of  interlopers  by  them, — with  the  excep- 
tion of  Mrs.  Wain  wright  whose  complete  seriousness 
in  the  business  had  won  for  her  the  confidence  of  the 
experienced  men  and  women  of  the  settlement 
houses. 

She  joined  the  others  about  ten  o'clock;  and  the 
little  party,  breaking  up  into  three  divisions,  pro- 
ceeded to  various  addresses  which  the  head  of  the 
group  had  typed  on  sheets  of  rather  dirty  paper. 

Florence  and  a  young  Harvard  graduate  from  the 
Trumbull  Square  House  first  visited  number  10 
Canticle  Street.  At  one  time  this  house  had  been  a 
fine  mansion  of  the  South  End,  and  the  laundry  in 
the  basement  and  shoe-polishing  parlors  next  door 
did  not  wholly  prevent  the  brown-stone  front  under 
its  present  dinginess  from  giving  a  vague  hint  of  its 
better  days.  The  landlady  answered  the  questions 
put  to  her  in  a  surly  manner,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  Florence  and  her  companion  elicited  the 
information  that  there  were  ten  more  people  living 
in  the  house  than  properly  belonged  there.  All  the 
rooms  seemed  to  be  shared  by  three  and  sometimes 
four  persons, — mostly  shopgirls,  telephone  operators 
and  young  men  of  varied  occupations.  The  halls 
were  dark  and  narrow,  and  the  fire  escape  at  the  back 
of  the  house  was  in  such  a  precarious  condition  that 
Florence  thought  death  by  suffocation  would  be 
preferable  to  a  descent  down  its  hazardous  steps. 

Other  houses  in  this  neighborhood  were  gone 
through,  always  in  the  face  of  the  opposition  of  the 
landladies,  sometimes  most  graphically  expressed. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  23 

It  was  noticeable  that  none  of  these  houses  contained 
a  parlor  or  reception  room  of  any  sort  where  a  girl 
might  receive  her  friends.  No  wonder,  thought 
Florence,  that  the  streets  of  our  cities  are  crowded  at 
night  by  loafers  and  street  walkers.  The  hall  bed- 
room hurls  its  occupant  into  the  street  and  none  too 
seldom  to  the  gutter.  One  landlady,  upon  being 
asked  if  it  were  not  possible  to  set  aside  a  room  on 
the  ground  floor  for  the  general  use  of  her  lodger's, 
said — giving  Mrs.  Wainwright  a  sidelong  glance 
full  of  meaning — that  the  people  living  in  her  house 
were  not  "swells"  but  plain  working  girls  who  paid 
for  a  room  and  did  not  get  more  than  they  paid  for. 
Florence  looked  down  the  dirty  street  and  went  on 
to  the  next  place.  Mr.  Wyman,  the  young  college 
graduate,  made  copious  notes  after  each  investiga- 
tion. In  figures  and  comparison  of  statistics  he 
seemed  to  take  great  comfort,  constantly  mention- 
ing police  laws  regulating  the  matter  of  adequate 
fire  protection  or  the  placing  of  bathrooms  and  num- 
ber of  persons  to  a  room;  and  Florence  was  amazed 
at  the  limited  scope  of  his  vision  which  did  not  appear 
to  go  beyond  the  closely  written  pages  of  his  note- 
book. To  her  the  significance  of  the  matter  lay  in 
another  direction.  The  appalling  outcome  of  our 
civilization  in  the  way  life  is  stripped  bare  of  amuse- 
ment and  diversion  for  the  masses,  was  never  more 
apparent  to  her  than  in  the  stuffy  corridors  of  these 
cheap  lodging  houses.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
for  the  dwellers  in  these  places  but  the  moving- 
picture  theaters  and  the  streets;  and  the  "movies," 


24  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

catering  nearly  always  to  the  primitive  emotions, 
only  served  the  most  transient  needs  of  man  in  his 
search  for  amusement  and  diversion.  The  saloons 
had  been  taken  away  from  the  men, — to  the  advan- 
tage of  many  of  them,  it  must  be  admitted,  but  what 
would  be  given  in  their  place?  To  Florence  it 
seemed  as  though  civilization  were  so  intent  at  the 
present  time  in  making  mankind  better  that  it  had 
quite  overlooked  the  fact  that  entertainment  is  no 
small  function  of  society. 

At  one  particular  house  which  advertised  rooms 
for  transients  and  where  the  negro  in  charge  would 
not  vouchsafe  a  word  of  information  other  than 
that  she  had  fulfilled  all  the  police  regulations  and 
would  on  no  account  show  them  through  the  prem- 
ises, both  Florence  and  Mr.  Wyman  realized  at  once 
that  the  lodgers  here  were  not  the  sort  that  came  un- 
der their  particular  investigations  at  the  present 
time.  As  they  were  standing  on  the  doorstep  a  little 
undecided  as  to  whether  they  would  go  to  luncheon 
now — it  was  after  one — or  continue  their  'work  a  bit 
longer,  a  reddish-haired  girl  in  a  dark  street  dress 
came  out  of  the  house.  She  looked  curiously  at  the 
couple  as  she  came  slowly  down  the  steep  flight  of 
steps;  and  as  she  passed  Florence,  half  turned  and 
smiled. 

"Didn't  they  have  a  room  for  you,  dearie?"  she 
asked.  "Try  number  25." 

There  was  something  about  the  face  of  the  girl 
with  its  rather  soft  white  skin  and  bright  eyes  that 
caused  Florence  to  smile  back  at  her.  Before  she 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  25 

realized  whether  she  wanted  to  speak  or  not,  she  had 
said,  "Do  you  live  here  ?" 

Young  Wyman  was  obviously  embarrassed  and 
started  to  say  something  to  Florence  about  going  to 
lunch,  when  the  girl,  still  smiling  pleasantly,  turned 
quickly  to  him  and  said,  "Nix  on  the  lunch,  kid. 
Can't  you  see  the  lady  has  asked  me  a  question?" 
Then,  speaking  to  Mrs.  Wainwright  again  with  the 
same  bright  manner,  "No,  I  don't  live  here;  but  I 
stayed  here  last  night. 

Wyman,  more  ill  at  ease  than  ever,  went  down  the 
remaining  steps  to  the  sidewalk.  Florence  and  the 
girl  stood  looking  at  each  other. 

"Who's  your  friend,  dearie?"  she  asked,  winking 
toward  the  retreating  figure. 

Florence,  not  heeding  the  question,  said,  "Is  your 
home  in  this  neighborhood?" 

The  girl  laughed  at  this  and  replied  that  she  had  a 
room  near  by. 

"I  share  one  with  a  friend  over  in  the  next  street. 
Say,"  she  went  on  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  "if  she 
ain't  there  now,  you  and  yer  young  man  can  have  it 
for  a  dollar." 

This  was  the  finishing  stroke  for  Wyman,  who 
now  turned  around  quickly  from  his  meditation  of 
the  curbstone. 

"We  had  better  go  to  luncheon,  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright," he  said;  "you  look  fearfully  tired." 

"Here,  kid,"  the  girl  broke  in,  coming  down  to  the 
sidewalk,  "don't  try  to  put  any  of  that  'Mrs.'  busi- 
ness over  on  me." 


26  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Good-by,"  Florence  said,  as  she  joined  her  com- 
panion. 

"Good-by.  So  you  don't  want  the  room?"  she 
called  after  them  as  they  hurried  away. 

The  girl  stood  a  moment  watching  them. 

"That's  damned  queer!"  she  finally  said,  and 
turned  on  her  heel  and  started  off  down  the  street. 

Florence  went  home  to  luncheon,  having  agreed  to 
join  the  committee  of  three  for  further  rambles  in 
the  afternoon.  The  streets  were  hot  and  close,  and 
as  she  walked  along,  she  felt  very  tired  and  dirty, — 
a  physical  feeling  of  uncleanliness  having  taken  hold 
of  her,  due  probably  to  the  moral  swamps  through 
which  her  mind  had  wandered  that  morning.  The 
work  was  very  taxing  at  times ;  Florence  was  by  no 
means  strong,  and  it  was  this  fact  that  so  often  had 
created  astonishment  in  her  brother  that  she  should 
wish  to  proceed  in  her  reforming  efforts  with  so 
much  zeal.  This  noon  especially  her  task  seemed 
almost  hopeless.  The  character  of  the  South  End 
houses  and  the  brief  scene  with  the  girl  had  had  a 
depressing  effect.  Certainly  in  all  this  situation 
something  was  needed  beside  investigations  and  com- 
mittee reports,  something  beyond  laws  not  to  do  this 
a'nd  not  to  do  that  and  the  various  lodging-house  acts. 
The  moral  nature  of  people  must  be  changed. 

The  (work  in  the  afternoon  consisted  largely  of 
talk, — discussions  among  the  various  members  of 
the  committee  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  with  all  the 
statistics  and  material  they  had  gathered.  A  con- 
stant reference  to  the  authority  vested  in  the  police 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  27 

appeared  to  be  the  rock  upon  which  the  committee 
placed  its  faith.  When  Florence  finally  left  the 
group  about  five  o'clock  and  stood  waiting  for  the 
car  which  would  take  her  home,  she  had  a  curious 
feeling  that  the  gloom  hanging  over  this  part  of  town 
was  somehow  heavier  and  more  depressing  than  any- 
thing she  had  known  in  the  battle  zone  of  France. 
At  one  time  she  had  worked  very  near  the  front  and 
had  experienced  what  it  was  like  to  be  actually  under 
fire.  But  she  had  never  felt  then  anything  like  the 
gloom  that  seemed  to  come  down  and  almost  smother 
her  as  she  stood  now  on  this  street  corner.  Over 
there,  in  the  midst  of  the  horror  and  disorder,  dirt 
and  death,  she  had  felt  an  uplift, — a  courage  that 
came  with  her  duties ;  but  here  it  took  a  tremendous 
amount  of  courage  to  keep  her  going  on  with  her 
work. 

There  was  mud,  mud, — mud  everywhere.  The 
streets  oozed  with  the  black,  slimy  stuff,  and  the  side- 
walk, where  many  sticky  feet  had  left  imprints, 
looked  like  a  part  of  the  roadway.  Near  the  electric 
car  tracks  the  cobblestones  were  broken  and  irregu- 
kr,  and  puddles  of  water  glistened,  reflecting  the 
cold  blue  arc  light  above.  Even  the  houses  them- 
selves had  a  muddy  aspect,  which  was  their  usual  ap- 
pearance in  this  section  of  town.  The  bricks  were 
blackened  by  the  accumulated  dirt  of  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  and  the  effect  of  murky  dreariness  was  height- 
ened by  the  gloom  produced  by  the  structure  of  the 
elevated  railway  which,  like  a  black  serpent,  hung 
over  the  road.  On  the  best  of  days  little  light  could 


28  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

get  into  the  street,  shrouded  by  this  hideous,  curving 
snake  of  iron  which  belched  forth  thunderous  trains 
at  frequent  intervals,  adding  to  the  din  of  drays  and 
cars  below.  But  to-day  was  the  worst  of  days,  and 
the  very  air  breathed  mud  and  filth  and  smoke  and 
slime.  The  street  was  packed  with  heavy  carts 
driven  by  cursing  drivers  who  hurled  their  impre- 
cations in  broken  English  at  things  and  people  get- 
ting- in  their  way. 

"Look  what  you're  about,  you  slob!"  a  girl  cried 
in  a  shrill  voice,  as  she  hesitated  between  two  wag- 
ons, and  the  driver  of  one  of  the  wagons  spat  down 
almost  upon  her. 

"Excuse  me  dearie,"  the  man  on  the  cart  answered, 
grinning  at  the  girl  and  watching  her  feet  and  ankles 
as  she  went  on. 

"I'll  dearie  you,  if  you  don't  look  what  you're 
about,"  the  girl  mumbled,  hurrying  through  an  open- 
ing in  the  traffic. 

She  crossed  over  near  Florence  and  passed  by 
rapidly,  not  recognizing  her  acquaintance  of  a  few 
hours  before  on  the  door  stoop  of  the  house.  But 
Florence  saw  at  once  that  it  was  the  same  girl 
who  had  spoken  to  her  and  had  tried  to  aid  her  in 
a  rather  ambiguous  situation. 

She  was  slight  and  short;  had  rather  reddish- 
yellow  hair,  and  wore  a  dark  suit  and  small  black 
hat  on  the  side  of  which  was  a  red  wing  of  some- 
what faded  plumage.  Her  dress  was  smartly  cut 
but  dirty  around  the  bottom,  and  the  jacket  was 
wrinkled  and  slightly  spotted  on  the  collar  and 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  29 

cuffs.  She  was  not  essentially  pretty,  yet  her  face 
was  so  absolutely  without  character  and  her  skin  so 
white  that  the  effect  was  pleasing  in  a  negative  sort 
of  way.  The  features  were  regular,  although  the 
nose  was  too  small  for  the  rather  large  eyes  and 
mouth.  One  would  have  been  inclined  to  say  it  was 
a  pretty  face,  if  one  noticed  it  at  all. 

Mrs.  Wainwright  decided  to  follow  her  a  bit  to 
see  where  she  was  going.  The  girl  walked  on  rap- 
idly through  the  crowd  of  men  and  boys,  most  of 
them  workmen  who  were  all  going  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  herself.  The  sidewalk  was  narrow,  and 
it  was  difficult  at  times  to  get  through  the  crush  of 
people.  It  was  also  difficult  for  Florence  to  keep 
in  sight  of  the  person  she  was  following.  No  one 
took  any  notice  of  her  or  of  the  girl  a  few  paces  in 
front,  who  in  her  turn  scarcely  glanced  at  the  many 
faces  about  her.  At  a  corner  where  there  was  a 
block  of  traffic,  she  had  to  stop  a  moment  on  the  curb- 
stone. A  young  fellow  of  about  eighteen,  smoking 
a  cigarette,  ambled  out  from  a  group  of  men  stand- 
ing in  a  doorway. 

"Hello,  Grade,"  he  said,  "I  ain't  seen  you  this 
long  time." 

"That  ain't  my  fault,"  the  girl  answered,  hardly 
looking  at  the  boy,  who  stared  at  her  with  a  simp- 
ering smile  on  his  face. 

"I  seen  Jim  Breen  yesterday,"  the  boy  went  on, 
shoving  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  looking 
down  at  the  gutter  where  a  thick  mass  of  slimy 
mud,  filled  with  cigarette  butts  and  small  pieces  of 


3q  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

paper,  was  slowly  finding  its  way  into  the  sewer 
grating. 

But  the  girl  made  no  answer;  she  did  not  even 
glance  at  her  companion,  and  was  off  across  the 
street.  The  boy  smiled,  spat  out  the  butt  of  his 
cigarette,  and  joined  the  group  in  the  doorway, 
seemingly  the  entrance  to  a  pool  room  which,  like 
most  places  of  the  sort,  had  become  in  prohibition 
days  the  headquarters  for  the  old  gangs  which  used 
to  hang  over  the  bars  of  the  saloons. 

It  had  begun  to  rain;  not  a  real  downpour  but  just 
a  quiet  drizzle  which  made  the  dense  air  of  the  street 
seem  denser  and  hotter  than  ever.  The  girl  who 
had  been  addressed  as  Gracie  hurried  on.  She  had 
no  umbrella,  but  evidently  did  not  mind  the  rain.  It 
was  her  habit  to  walk  fast,  and  she  was  hurrying 
now, — not  because  she'  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  wet 
or  found  herself  late  for  an  engagement,  but  merely 
through  force  of  habit.  Her  destination  was 
Umber's  Cafe,  where  the  dispensing  of  imitation 
beer  and  stale  sandwiches  went  on  daily  to  a  rather 
shrunken  patronage  as  compared  with  the  time  when 
the  lights  of  this  district  burned  red  and  late. 

Florence,  who  had  walked  much  farther  than  she 
intended,  suddenly  felt  rather  tired  and  faint;  so 
when  the  girl  turned  into  the  door  of  Umber's,  she 
went  in  also,  taking  a  seat  in  the  front  part  of  the 
restaurant  with  her  back  to  the  room.  Gracie  in- 
variably arrived  at  Umber's  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  six  o'clock.  When  she  entered  the  cafe 


to-night,  it  was  evident  she  was  an  habitue  of  the 
place;  and  a  very  young,  white-faced  head  waiter 
in  a  bedraggled  dress  suit  and  dirty  shirt  front, 
said,  "Well,  here's  Grade"  in  the  tone  of  voice  with 
which  he  might  have  ordered  a  chicken  sandwich. 
Gracie  sat  down  alone,  facing  the  doorway,  at  a  table 
in  the  back  part  of  the  room. 

This  room,  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  building, 
was  long  and  narrow;  at  the  front  were  various 
iron  grill  works,  a  hanger  for  hats  and  coats,  and 
the  cashier's  desk.  The  tables  at  the  back  were 
the  most  popular,  being  near  a  battered  upright 
piano  upon  which  nightly  from  eight  to  ten  a  lad  of 
twenty  played  accompaniments  for  another  youth 
of  his  own  age,  who  sang  very  badly  in  a  kind  of 
falsetto  tenor  voice.  The  ceiling  of  the  restaurant 
was  low  and  was  decorated  with  a  green  lattice 
broken  in  many  places,  from  which  drooped  branches 
of  dull  green  and  red  autumn  leaves  made  of  some 
coarse  canvas  material.  The  unnatural  color  of 
these  leaves  and  their  die-away,  drooping  manner 
gave  to  Umber's  a  melancholy  appearance,  although 
the  decorations  in  question  had  been  put  there  with 
the  evident  idea  of  transforming  a  prosaic  eating 
house  into  a  grotto  of  some  sort.  The  walls  were 
dull  brown,  and  extending  half-way  down  from  the 
top  was  a  border  of  wall  paper  depicting  faded 
purple  lilacs  growing  upon  a  green  trellis.  The 
lilacs  and  autumn  leaves,  dependent  from  the  trellis, 
was  certainly  an  extraordinary  effect  unfortunately 
lost  upon  the  patrons  of  Umber's. 


32  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

After  Gracie  sat  down,  one  of  the  waitresses 
who  were  under  the  direction  of  the  young  gentle- 
man of  the  soiled  shirt  front,  came  up  to  the  table. 

"Ain't  it  awful  weather,"  she  said. 

"I  don't  let  the  weather  bother  me,"  Gracie  an- 
swered without  looking  up.  "Seen  Tommy  to- 
night?" she  added. 

"No,  she's  not  in  yet,"  the  waitress  replied,  look- 
ing about  the  room  vaguely  as  though  the  said 
Tommy  might  have  come  in  during  the  interval 
her  back  was  turned.  She  continued  to  stand  by 
Gracie's  table,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  looking  out 
toward  the  door.  Neither  of  the  women  spoke. 
But  Gracie's  gaze,  following  that  of  the  waitress, 
spied  Florence  down  by  the  door. 

In  the  meantime,  Florence,  who  was  feeling  very 
tired  and  rather  chilly,  had  ordered  a  cup  of  black 
coffee.  She  would  have  liked  a  liqueur  brandy, 
knowing  that  this  would  revive  her  immediately; 
but  she  never  saw  any  hardship  in  the  denial  to 
herself  of  such  things  as  medicine  while  she  could 
be  a  witness  every  day  to  how  much  simpler  the  slum 
proposition  was  becoming  on  account  of  the  closing 
of  the  saloons. 

"Don't  you  feel  well,  dearie?"  she  suddenly 
heard  some  one  say  close  at  her  side.  The  voice 
was  familiar.  She  looked  up.  Gracie  Linton  was 
standing  by  the  table,  smiling. 

'I  am  a  little  faint,  I  think;  but  shall  be  all  right 
in  a  moment,"  Florence  answered.  Then  added, 
'Won't  you  sit  down  here?" 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  33 

"Thanks,  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  Grade  promptly 
replied,  sitting  down  opposite  Florence. 

There  was  something  rather  kindly  in  the  girl's 
expression  which  appealed  to  Florence,  as  it  had 
done  that  forenoon  when  she  met  her  on  the  steps. 

"You  do  look  pale,"  Gracie  continued.  "Ain't 
you  got  any  of  them  smelling  salts?  I  always 
thought  people  like  you  carried  smelling  salts  around 
with  them  in  a  gold  mesh  bag." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'people  like  me'?"  Flor- 
ence asked,  sipping  her  coffee. 

"Oh,  well,  of  course  I  knew  when  I  seen  yer  this 
morning  that  you  didn't  belong  to  this  part  of 
town.  That's  what  made  me  feel  awfully  queer 
running  into  yer  on  the  steps  of  that  old  geezer's 
house." 

"I  was  there  doing  some  work  in  connection  with 
my  settlement  house,"  Florence  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment. 

"So  you're  one  of  them  people  that  goes  about 
uplifting  humanity,"  Gracie  said,  laughing.  Then 
added,  more  seriously,  "I  hope  you  ain't  a  female 
agent  of  the  U.  S.  Government  on  the  trail  of  booze." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  much  for  the  uplift 
of  humanity,"  Florence  replied,  also  laughing;  "but 
I  am  very  interested  in  all  the  people  who  live  in  this 
part  of  the  city  and  the  conditions  they  have  to 
meet." 

"Oh,  you  ain't  that  serious,  really?  And  you 
so  fine  looking  and  pretty.  You  had  ought  to  take 
things  more  easy.  There's  a  lot  of  good  times  to 


34  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

be  had  still,  in  spite  of  the  closing  down  of  most  of 
the  night  joints.  You  see,  the  law  can't  take  all 
the  pep  out  of  life." 

Florence  paid  her  bill  and  started  to  go;  but 
here  was  something  that  interested  her  tremendously. 
She  often  had  wished  to  come  face  to  face 
on  equal  terms  with  a  girl  of  the  streets,  to  see  if 
she  could  get  any  insight  into  the  state  of  mind  which 
causes  these  girls  to  lead  the  life  they  do,  and  to 
find  out  if  certain  pet  theories  of  hers  in  respect  to 
these  things  were  true.  There  was  no  sentimen- 
tality in  Mrs.  Wainwright's  point  of  view.  The 
trouble  always  had  been,  she  thought,  that  most  of 
the  people  who  had  attempted  reforms  in  this  par- 
ticular line  of  social  service  work  either  had  been 
swept  off  their  feet  by  sentiment  or  bound  to  the  A. 
B.  C.'s  of  the  police  code.  Gracie  might  be  a  good 
subject  for  her.  She  was  the  sort  of  girl  she  would 
like  to  watch  for  a  little.  She  asked  Gracie  if  she 
might  see  her  again,  and  where  she  lived. 

Gracie  told  Florence  her  name  and  address,  and 
then  added,  "Awfully  sorry  yer  ain't  got  time  to 
meet  Tommy." 

"Perhaps  some  other  time  I  can  meet  him." 

At  this  Gracie  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"It  ain't  a  him,"  she  exclaimed.  "Tommy's  my 
pal.  She's  late  to-night,  but  is  sure  to  drop  in  soon." 

Mrs.  Wainwright  said  good-by  to  Gracie  and 
started  for  home.  She  felt  quite  all  right  again, 
and  much  braced  in  her  state  of  mind;  for  in  the 
episode  at  Umber's  Restaurant  she  had  found  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  35 

human  note  in  her  day's  work  which  until  this  time 
had  seemed  lacking  in  the  maze  of  detail  through 
which  she  had  plodded. 

Gracie  went  back  to  her  table  at  the  end  of  the 
room.  There  were  only  a  few  people  -at  Urrfber's  at 
this  early  hour  of  the  evening.  It  was  not  the  sort 
of  restaurant  to  which  one  usually  goes  to  eat;  at 
least,  it  was  formerly  not  that  sort  of  place.  But 
since  the  public  has  turned  to  eating  as  one  of  the 
few  permitted  pleasures  of  life — evidenced  by  the 
number  of  bars  that  have  been  made  into  cafeterias 
and  the  rushing  business  they  do — many  of  the  old 
patrons  of  Umber's  still  came  there  to  have  a  bite 
and  look  about  a  bit.  A  few  girls  were  always  to 
be  seen  there  early  in  the  evening,  on  the  watch  for 
the  possible  sailor  who  had  emptied  a  pint  from  his 
hip  pocket.  There  were  also  a  certain  number  of 
gentlemen  of  a  rather  sleek  and  prosperous  appear- 
ance who  were  said  to  do  a  good  "bootlegging" 
business  in  the  men's  wash  room  both  at  Umber's 
and  at  other  similar  places  down  the  street. 

In  the  corner  farthest  from  Gracie  were  two  men 
eating  and  talking.  One  of  them,  the  younger, 
was  evidently  drunk.  His  companion  watched  him 
closely,  now  and  then  saying  something  to  which 
the  younger  man  would  reply  excitedly  and  then  re- 
lapse into  silence.  Down  by  the  door  a  girl  sat 
drinking  some  dark  stuff  from  a  small  glass  and 
looking  straight  ahead  of  her,  her  elbows  resting  on 
the  edge  of  the  table.  Nearer  Gracie,  against  the 
Wall  by  which  she  was  sitting,  was  a  fat,  red- faced 


36  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

man  reading  a  newspaper  and  every  few  moments 
looking  up  over  it  at  her.  By  turning  her  gaze 
directly  upon  the  door,  Gracie  could  see  every  time 
the  fat  man  looked  at  her  without  once  seeming  to 
see  him. 

After  a  time  the  waitress  said,  "What'll  yer 
have?" 

"Same  old  thing,  I  guess,"  Gracie  answered;  and 
took  out  a  little  black  purse  she  had  in  her  pocket, 
looked  in  it,  and  put  it  down  with  her  handkerchief 
on  the  table. 

The  same  old  thing  was  a  bottle  of  Sarsaparilla 
with  which  after  a  very  long  time  the  waitress  re- 
turned, coming  slowly  across  the  room,  her  feet 
moving  as  though  she  were  in  a  trance.  The  bottle 
was  opened  in  the  same  dreamlike  manner  and 
placed  on  the  table. 

A  little  later  a  number  of  stragglers  drifted  in, — 
men  looking  very  wet  with  their  collars  turned  up. 
Also,  some  girls  in  groups,  one  or  two  of  whom  nod- 
ded to  Gracie;  one  dark-haired  girl  came  over  and 
asked  her  how  she  was  and  if  Tommy  had  shown  up. 
A  rather  bedraggled  sailor  came  in  with  a  boy  of 
eighteen  or  thereabouts  and  sat  near  Gracie,  who 
looked  across  and  smiled  as  the  sailor  turned  to- 
ward her. 

Finally  Tommy  appeared,  hurrying  into  the  res- 
taurant with  a  wet  umbrella  which  the  white- faced 
head  waiter  took  from  her  and  deposited  behind 
the  cashier's  desk.  Tommy  stopped  and  bought 
a  box  of  cigarettes  and  then  smiling  upon  every  one 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  37 

as  she  passed,  went  over  and  sat  down  at  Grade's 
table. 

"I  thought  you  weren't  never  coming,"  Gracie 
said. 

"Did  you  ever  know  me  to  fluke,  girlie?"  Tommy 
answered,  laughing. 

There  was  something  about  her  manner  which 
seemed  to  put  new  life  into  every  one.  The  wait- 
ress of  the  trancelike  state  came  almost  immediately 
and  asked  Tommy  what  she  would  have;  and  the 
head  waiter  approached  with  the  menu,  a  large  affair 
with  a  blue-flowered  bordef  very  much  spotted  and 
stained,  and  the  appearance  of  having  been  eaten 
upon  more  often  than  consulted. 

Tommy  took  the  card,  and  scarcely  looking  at 
it,  ordered  a  tongue  sandwich  with  plenty  of  mus- 
tard on  it  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"What'll  yer  have,  Gracie?"  she  inquired  of  her 
companion. 

"Give  me  a  chicken  sandwich  and  a  piece  of  apple 
pie." 

"Anything  to  drink?"  the  waitress  asked. 

"Why  don't  yer  ask  me  if  I'll  have  a  diamond 
brooch?  No;  I  don't  want  any  of  your  half-per- 
cent belly  wash." 

The  sailor,  pausing  in  his  consumption  of  steak 
and  bread  and  butter,  looked  over  again  to  Gracie 
and  smiled. 

The  restaurant  was  half  filled  now,  and  the  aut- 
umn leaves  and  lilacs  were  losing  some  of  their  ding- 
iness  in  clouds  of  smoke.  Suddenly  the  piano 


38  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

started  and  a  high,  flat-sounding  voice  sang,  "Give 
me  a  kiss,  dearie,  before  we  say  good-by." 

Tommy  smilingly  nodded  to  the  youth  at  the 
piano  who  winked  at  her. 

"Flirting  with  the  ivories?"  Gracie  asked,  still 
looking  at  the  sailor. 

"He's  some  kid,  that  boy,"  said  Tommy. 

"He  ain't  bad  on  the  piano,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  Gracie  replied.  "But  I  don't  see  what  he's 
got  for  looks."  After  a  moment  she  went  on,  "say, 
you  should  have  seen  my  swell  friend  in  here  just 
now, — the  lady  I  told  you  about  this  morning." 

"She  must  have  been  broke  to  be  hanging  out  in 
this  joint." 

"Oh,  you  don't  get  me,"  Gracie  explained ;  "She's 
one  of  them  social  welfare  workers." 

"Well,  nix  on  her  then,"  Tommy  said. 

"That's  what  I  thought.  But  she  is  certainly  a 
peach." 

"Did  you  get  that  waist  at  Vonik's?"  Tommy 
asked. 

"No  I  didn't.  They  ain't  marked  down,  after 
all." 

"Kate  Dearly  said  they  was  going  to  have  a  sale 
of  them." 

"Well  Kate  better  tell  that  to  the  marines." 

And  so  the  talk  went  on.  The  sailor  had  finished 
his  steak  and  was  looking  at  Gracie.  When  that 
young  lady  got  up  to  go  to  the  retiring  room,  she 
said  a  few  words  to  him  in  passing.  When  she 
came  back  to  her  table,  he  and  his  friend  came  over 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  39 

and  sat  down  with  her  and  Tommy.  There  was 
much  shrill  laughter,  and  drinks  of  a  very  pale  color 
and  extremely  acid  taste  were  ordered  all  around. 
The  sailor  placed  a  fresh  box  of  cigarettes  on  the 
table  and  moved  nearer  to  Gracie.  The  boy  at  the 
piano  played  louder  and  louder,  and  the  youth  be- 
side him  sang  of  more  kisses  and  good-bys  and  the 
little  lane  in  summer  where  the  cherry  blossoms 
grow;  while  waitresses  moved  hither  and  thither 
with  tall  funnel-shaped  glasses  of  camouflaged  beer, 
and  the  head  waiter  continued  to  stand  in  the  door- 
way, clutching  a  greasy  menu  card.  It  was  the 
height  of  the  evening  gayety  at  Umber's  cafe,  where 
a  few  men  and  women  of  the  old  red-light  dis- 
trict were  trying  their  best  to  make  merry  over  tum- 
blers of  varied  Volstead  brew.  Outside,  in  the  rain 
which  came  down  unceasingly,  wet  and  dingy-look- 
ing people  passed  along  the  street. 


CHAPTER  III 

That  evening  Florence  was  sitting  at  the  desk  in 
her  brother's  study  making  certain  notes  on  pieces 
of  paper  which  she  had  before  her.  The  name 
"Grade  Linton"  appeared  a  number  of  times;  and 
underneath  it  headings  such  as,  "Two  girls, — Reg- 
ular work  for  them. — Permanent  home  somewhere, 
possibly  in  country."  Farther  down  the  page  were 
the  addresses  of  a  number  of  houses  which  she  had 
visited  that  day  and  suggestions  which  she  had  to 
make  on  each  of  them.  Then  appeared  the  words, 
"Grade  and  Tommy,"  underlined:  also,  "country 
life — Danger  of  boredom. — Good  woman  to  super- 
vise." Many  of  the  notes  Florence  had  scratched 
out  and  re-written.  She  was.  still  scribbling  away 
on  her  papers  when  Max  came  in. 

"How  does  Delane  strike  you,  my  dear?"  he  asked. 

Kendall  had  been  so  hurried  at  breakfast  that  he 
had  had  no  chance  until  now  to  ask  his  sister  what 
had  been  her  impressions  of  the  evening  before. 

"I  should  say  he  is  strictly  honest,"  Florence  an- 
swered 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  Max  said,  as  he  lighted  his  pipe. 
"But  I  know  what  you  really  think, — that  he  won't 
do  here." 

"I  haven't  said  it,"  Florence  remarked,  smiling. 

"But  you  thought  it." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  41 

"Oh,  yes, — I  thought  it.  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing it.  But  whoever  said  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  fit  in  here?"  she  went  on. 

"No  one,  unless  Delane  himself.  He  has  thrown 
out  a  number  of  remarks,  apparently  in  a  chaffing 
way,  that  my  house  must  contain  a  mystery  be- 
cause I  so  seldom  let  any  of  my  pals  see  the  inside 
of  it.  Of  course  it  was  vulgar  of  him,  but  he  didn't 
know  how  it  sounded." 

"His  sister  is  probably  behind  his  social  ambi- 
tions," Florence  said. 

"Undoubtedly,"  Max  replied.  "However,  I  want 
to  do  all  I  can  for  him  just  now,  as  our  venture  looks 
very  promising." 

"How  splendid,"  Florence  exclaimed,  reaching 
over  and  giving  her  brother's  hand  a  good  squeeze. 
"I  am  so  glad  for  you,  Max  dear." 

Max  looked  at  Florence  a  moment  and  then  said, 
"He  has  asked  us  out  to  his  house  for  supper  Sun- 
day night." 

"I  hope  you  made  excuses." 

"Yes;  I  told  him  you  had  an  engagement  for 
Sunday,  and  that  I  would  probably  be  out  of  town 
playing  golf." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  brother  and  sister  sat 
looking  into  the  fire  quite  as  two  people  do  who  are 
on  such  intimate  terms  that  long  silences  are  as 
eloquent  as  words. 

Then  Florence  spoke.  "All  the  men  of  Delane's 
type  seem  to  me  to  be  so  lacking  in  imagination." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  her  brother  asked. 


42  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Their  vision  so  seldom  goes  beyond  the  con- 
crete fact  of  the  project  they  have  in  hand.  There 
are  such  vast  other  possibilities  in  every  big  under- 
taking besides  the  definite  result  or  end  of  the  thing 
itself.  Just  in  the  matter  of  my  own  work,  there 
are  so  many  bigger  things  than  the  actual  purposes 
we  have  in  view.  This  afternoon  I  ran  into  a  girl 
of  the  streets  in  a  South  End  restaurant — " 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  go  into  such  places,"  Max 
interrupted. 

Florence  continued,  not  heeding  this  remark. 
"She  interested  me  tremendously.  As  an  individ- 
uality, as  a  living  personality,  she  appealed  to  me 
as  the  one  real  thing  I  had  struck  in  my  whole  day's 
work.  What  can  be  done  with  a  girl  like  that? 
What  is  the  long  chain  of  circumstances  that  has 
brought  her  to  where  she  is?  Now,  for  instance, 
in  the  case  of  Delane.  He  has  power;  he  controls 
with  you  large  tracts  of  valuable  land.  You  both 
want  to  develop  it  to  the  best  advantage;  but  just 
what  does  that  advantage  mean  to  Delane, — or  to 
you,  for  that  matter?" 

"My  dear — "  Max  put  in  again. 

"No,  I  do  not  mean  to  place  you  in  the  same  class 
with  Delane,"  Florence  said  quickly.  "But  it 
seems  to  me  in  all  these  things  the  great  chance 
is  missed;  the  chance  of  dealing  with  the  individ- 
ual and  doing  something  for  him  is  overlooked." 

"It  won't  be  missed  if  the  franchise  is  granted 
and  the  railway  put  through.  The  land  will  develop 
like  magic,  if  it  is  made  accessible  to  the  public," 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  43 

Max  said  in  a  very  firm  tone  of  voiqe,  showing  a 
little  annoyance  at  what  he  considered  a  woman's 
usual  lack  of  perspective  in  such  matters. 

"You  have  said  it,"  Florence  ejaculated;  "that 
is  just  what  I  mean.  You  look  at  the  matter  as 
Delane  does, —  from  the  money-making  point  of 
view.  Your  horizon  is  a  Greenvale  of  jerry-built 
tenements  painted  yellow,  with  three  porches  in 
front  of  a  supposedly  colonial  style  to  suggest  the 
home,  and  three  porches  in  back  of  flimsier  design 
decorated  with  lines  of  washing, — white,  waving 
banners  of  large  families.  The  more  houses  and  the 
nearer  together  they  are,  the  more  reason  you  will 
have  to  pride  yourself  upon  your  success.  Green- 
vale  will  look  like  every  other  back  yard  of  a  great 
city,  and  people  will  flock  there,  deluded  by  the  fact 
of  cheap  rents  and  fresh  air." 

"Of  course,"  Max  said;  "but  isn't  that  all  right? 
Isn't  that  the  kind  of  thing  which  is  solving  your 
slum  proposition, —  getting  the  people  to  live  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  cities?  Isn't  it  a  fine  thing  to  give 
them  light  and  air  and  clean  homes  in  uncongested 
districts?" 

"Certainly,"  Florence  replied.  "I  do  not  criti- 
cize you.  I  only  deplore  the  lack  of  scope  in  your 
views." 

"I  am  afraid  I  don't  exactly  follow  you,"  her 
brother  said  a  little  hopelessly. 

"I  mean  what  a  chance  there  is  for  you  and 
Delane  to  do  something  fine  and  big,  if  you  will 
only  see  beyond  your  railways  and  houses  and  rents. 


44  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Perhaps  you  have  studied  the  garden  city  problem 
as  it  has  been  developed  in  England.  Why  not  do 
something  of  that  sort  here?  What  an  opportunity; 
what  a  pity  if  you  throw  it  away.  Give  up  a  little 
of  your  land  to  garden  plots;  let  your  streets  run 
cfooked,  with  pretty  squares  and  turns  and  open 
spaces,  and  let  your  houses  be  built  on  different 
plans.  You  would  not  lose  much  money  by  it.  I 
doubt  if  you  Avould  lose  any;  for  you  could  make 
Greenvale  so  much  finer  and  better  than  any  other 
place  of  the  sort  within  twenty  miles  of  Boston 
that  it  would  become  famous.  There  are  always 
open  spots  in  such  districts, —  usually  stagnant 
pools  where  mosquitoes  breed.  Make  them  gardens 
and  let  your  tenants  have  a  suitable  place  to  cool 
themselves  of  a  summer  evening  other  than  on  the 
crowded  porches  of  your  yellow-and-white  fire  traps. 
That  is  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  I  wish  you 
would  see  beyond  the  mere  achievement  of  build- 
ing houses  and  renting  them." 

"It  all  sounds  pretty  fine,  Florence,"  Max  said 
kindly ;  "but  Delane  and  I  are  not  imbued  as  you  are 
with  the  uplift  idea." 

"No  one  mentioned  uplift.  I  am  tired  to  death 
of  the  word,"  Florence  exclaimed  rather  heatedly. 
"But  why  shouldn't  every  man  who  puts  up  houses 
for  people  to  live  in  be  in  some  small  way  a  bene- 
factor to  humanity  ?  The  landlords  that  build  tene- 
ments on  a  large  scale  are  always  rich  men.  Delane, 
for  example,  has  loads  of  money.  Why  should  he 
not  feel  it  worth  while  to  do  something  more  with 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  45 

his  property  than  merely  build  houses  on  it  as 
cheaply  as  possible,  to  rent  for  as  much  as  people 
can  be  made  to  pay?  Why  this  constant  desire  to 
get  more  than  one  gives?  It  is  the  curse  of  all 
modern  business;  it  is  the  lack  of  perspective, — of 
imagination." 

Florence  arose  and  turned  to  her  brother.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  talked  to  him  about  Green- 
vale  in  this  way  and  she  wondered  how  he  would 
take  it. 

"Delane  would  laugh  at  you,"  he  said,  "if  he 
heard  you  to-night.  He  would  say  you  are  a  vi- 
sionary." 

"And  you  are  thinking  it,"  Florence  replied. 
"But  why  should  you,  for  you  are  the  sort  of  man 
that  could  do  these  things.  You  have  the  intelli- 
gence and  outlook  to  appreciate  fine  things;  you 
have  the  standards  by  which  to  measure  mediocrity. 
Don't,  Max,  don't  let  this  undertaking  of  yours  be- 
come mediocre ;  make  of  it  something  fine." 

"If  I  had  the  money,"  Max  said,  "something 
might  be  done  along  the  lines  you  suggest." 

"Persuade  Delane  to  do  it.  Make  him  see  what 
a  great  opportunity  lies  before  him." 

"You  try  it  yourself,"  Max  said,  as  he  started 
to  go.  "And  see  how  far  you  get." 

"I'll  wager  you  I  can  do  something." 

"Possibly,"  Max  called  out;  "Delane,  I  believe, 
is  rather  susceptible  where  the  ladies  are  concerned." 

"Don't  be  silly,  please,"  Florence  replied.  "By 
the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  have  heard  from 


46  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Susan  Anderton.  You  remember  her,  don't  you? 
She  is  in  New  York  and  is  coming  to  Boston  soon, 
expecting  to  spend  the  winter  here.  She  writes 
that  New  York  is  more  filled  with  profiteers  than 
Paris,  and  that  she  finds  it  harder  to  abide  the  Ameri- 
ican  brand  of  them  than  the  foreign." 

"Of  course  Susan  would  make  comparisons," 
Max  remarked. 

"It  is  perfectly  natural,"  Florence  said.  "It 
must  be  fifteen  years  since  she  was  last  in  this 
country." 

"Have  you  her  letter?"  Max  asked. 

"Yes, —  upstairs.     I  will  get  it." 

Florence  went  to  fetch  the  letter,  leaving  Max 
gazing  into  the  fire.  He  had  every  reason  to  think 
seriously  of  the  question  of  Susan  Anderton's  ap- 
pearance in  his  household  and  as  a  possible  neighbor 
for  the  winter.  He  did  not  know  her  well,  but  he 
thought  he  knew  her  sufficiently  to  dislike  her  rather. 
He  had  first  met  her  in  Paris  when  he  was  visiting 
his  sister  and  brother-in-law  some  years  before. 
Miss  Anderton  had  been  much  at  the  Wainwrights' ; 
was  devoted  to  Florence  and  transferred  a  consider- 
able part  of  that  devotion  to  Florence's  good-look- 
ing brother  when  he  made  his  appearance  in  France. 
She  was  a  woman  of  the  most  charming  traits  of 
mind  and  presented  to  the  rather  concrete  Max  cer- 
tain vistas  of  life  which  he  had  not  explored.  She 
was  the  complex  sort  of  person  that  Europe  pro- 
duces from  American  material.  Miss  Anderton 
had  lived  abroad  ever  since  she  could  remember, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  47 

and  her  last  visit  to  this  country  had  been  made  some 
ten  or  fifteen  years  ago.  At  first  Max  had  been 
fascinated  by  her  brilliancy, — a  certain  cold  bril- 
liancy of  intellect  which  is  always  appealing  to  a 
man ;  but  her  complexities,  behind  a  veil  of  the  most 
charming  simplicity,  had  annoyed  him  after  a  time, 
and  he  left  the  little  circle  in  Paris  without  deep 
regrets. 

Florence  had  known  her  first  when  she  was  in 
Switzerland  with  her  mother.  They  met  there 
every  year  and  often  spent  the  spring  together  on 
the  Riviera,  where  Miss  Anderton  had  a  house. 
Her  friends  were  always  changing,  her  background 
seemed  never  the  same;  and  Florence  was  perhaps 
the  only  person  that  had  known  her  consistently 
through  many  years.  When  Florence  came  to  Paris 
to  live  after  her  marriage,  Susan  Anderton  appeared 
on  the  scene.  She  figured  constantly  in  the  Wain- 
wrights'  entertainments.  During  the  war  she 
loaned  her  villa  to  the  government  for  the  use  of 
convalescent  soldiers;  and  when  Jack  Wainwright 
was  killed,  she  had  proved  a  valuable  friend  to 
Florence  in  the  circumstances  of  her  grief  and  sub- 
sequent departure  to  America. 

She  was  some  years  older  than  Florence, — prob- 
ably in  the  neighborhood  of  forty ;  but  her  age,  like 
the  incidents  that  made  up  her  life,  was  indefinite. 
During  a  motor  trip  through  the  south  of  France, 
Max  had  got  to  know  her  very  well,  and  after  he  re- 
turned home  the  two  corresponded  in  a  more  or  less 
desultory  fashion;  but  Max  was  not  given  to  letter 


48  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

writing,  and  Miss  Anderton  never  made  an  effort  to 
continue  connections  which  were  not  exigent  to 
the  moment.  Florence's  mention  of  her  just  now 
brought  her  to  Max's  mind  for  the  first  time  in 
several  years.  Her  appearance  on  the  horizon  of 
his  Boston  life  was  a  trifle  disconcerting. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  read  it  ?"  Florence  asked, 
as  she  came  back  with  the  letter. 

"Yes,  if  you  care  to.  It  is  odd  of  her  to  come 
over  here,  isn't  it?" 

"One  never  knows  what  Susan  will  do,"  Florence 
answered.  "This  part  about  our  friends  in  Paris 
will  not  interest  you,"  she  went  on,  as  she  opened 
the  letter.  "Then  she  writes  about  her  uncle. 
'Through  the  death  of  an  uncle  whom  I  hated/ 
Susan  says,  'I  have  come  into  a  slight  addition  to  my 
income.  That  is  why  I  am  in  New  York.  There 
is  to  be  some  litigation  over  the  will,  and  I  find  I 
must  remain  in  this  country  most  of  the  winter. 
I  hoped  to  get  a  flat  in  New  York  where  I  could 
live  and  be  near  my  lawyer;  but  finding  flats  not 
only  an  expensive  but  unobtainable  luxury,  I  am 
considering  the  matter  of  Boston.  Shall  run  over 
soon  and  hope  you  are  to  be  in  town.  It  must  be 
delightful  for  you  to  be  with  your  brother.  I 
remember  him  in  the  pleasantest  sort  of  way," 

Florence  stopped.     Max  was  frowning. 

"Is  that  all  she  says  ?"  he  asked. 

Florence  went  on  with  the  letter. 

"  'I  received  your  letter  before  I  left  France.  It 
was  so  good  to  hear  from  you  again.  But  what 


49 

is  this  work  you  speak  of?  Surely  you  should 
be  taking  a  rest  after  your  labors  in  the  war.  It 
is  a  painful  process  trying  to  look  after  other  people 
as  you  seem  to  be  doing.  I  think  the  managing  of 
oneself  requires  all  one's  efforts,  especially  in  these 
complicated  times.  You  have  no  idea  how  dread- 
ful New  York  is.  It  is  a  maddening  existence  here 
and  I  fear  I  shall  never  like  the  place,  being  built 
too  much  on  the  old  plan  to  care  for  heathenism  run 
riot  and  democracy  turned  loose  to  dance  a  jig  on 
a  tower  of  golden  dollars.  Boston  will  suit  me  bet- 
ter. Perhaps  you  still  have  people  there  who  speak 
the  English  language  as  I  remember  it.  And  do 
look  about  for  a  little  apartment  where  I  can  settle 
down  this  winter.  Yours,  etc.  Susan.' ' 

"It  is  only  because  you  are  here  that  she  is  coming 
to  Boston,"  Max  said. 

"Very  likely,"  his  sister  replied,  as  she  folded 
up  the  letter.  "However,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see 
her  again.  I  never  shall  forget  how  wonderful  she 
was  when  I  came  back  to  Paris  after  Jack's  death." 

"She  loved  the  important  part  which  she  played 
in  your  life  at  that  time,"  Max  answered. 

"She  changed  her  plans  completely  on  account  of 
me,"  Florence  said  a  little  sadly. 

"But  always  with  her  own  little  game  to  play." 

"I  believe  you  never  fancied  her." 

"She  amused  me  very  much  at  first;  but  I  think 
on  the  whole  I  like  less  variegated  people." 

Florence  decided  to  write  to  Susan  at  once  and 
ask  that  lady  to  stay  with  her  when  she  should  arrive 


50  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

in  Boston.  Max  made  no  comment  upon  this,  be- 
yond suggesting  that  it  might  be  well  to  qualify  the 
invitation  by  stating  some  definite  time  that  they 
would  be  glad  to  have  Miss  Anderton  with  them. 

"Of  course  she  will  understand  that  it  is  only 
until  she  finds  an  apartment,"  Florence  said. 

"Which  is  quite  likely  to  mean  all  winter,"  Max 
remarked. 

When  Florence  was  out  the  next  morning,  she 
found  herself  about  one  o'clock  near  a  downtown 
hotel  which  always  has  been  famous  for  its  cuisine. 
She  went  into  the  lobby  to  telephone  Max  to  see 
if  he  cared  to  come  out  for  lunch  with  her,  and  she 
ran  into  Jim  Delane,  emerging  from  one  of  the 
telephone  booths. 

Delane's  pleasure  at  seeing  her  was  too  evident 
to  be  lost  upon  Florence,  who  found  his  hearty  greet- 
ing and  handshake  a  trifle  embarrassing  in  the  midst 
of  the  groups  of  men  standing  about. 

"Well,  now,  if  this  isn't  a  piece  of  luck,"he  said. 
"Nora  is  here,  waiting  for  me.  You  must  join  us 
and  have  lunch." 

"But  I  was  just  going  to  call  up  my  brother," 
Florence  put  in,  "to  see  if  he  would  come  out  and 
eat  with  me." 

"Never  mind  about  that  now,"  Delane  went  on 
hurriedly.  "Max  always  eats  earlier  than  this.  He 
has  probably  had  his  lunch.  You  come  right  along 
with  us. —  There's  Nora,"  he  said,  darting  off 
through  the  crowd  to  fetch  Miss  Delane,  who  made 
rather  a  bright  spot  in  the  dull-toned  hallway  with 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  51 

her  gown  of  mulberry  color  and  silver  fox  furs. 

There  seemed  nothing  for  Florence  to  do  but  fall 
in  with  Delane  and  his  sister,  however  little  the 
idea  interested  her  or  however  slight  might  be  her 
pleasure  in  meeting  Miss  Nora.  She  might  as  well 
face  the  music  now  as  later,  knowing  how  inevitable 
it  was  that  some  day  the  acquaintance  with  Delane's 
sister  would  have  to  be  made.  "She  may  not  be  so 
objectionable,"  Florence  thought,  "as  I  have  im- 
agined her."  The  introduction,  however,  did  little 
to  dispel  her  doubts  on  that  score;  Miss  Delane's 
clothes  fairly  reeked  with  money,  while  her  face, 
voice  and  manner  did  not  quite  match  the  quality 
of  her  toilette,  a  thing  which  so  often  happens  now- 
adays. 

"It  is  mighty  fine,  running  into  you  this  way," 
she  said  as  they  entered  the  dining  room.  "Jim  has 
talked  an  awful  lot  about  you  ever  since  the  other 
night  he  was  at  your  house.  I  have  been  trying 
to  arrange  a  date  to  have  you  out  to  our  place." 

"That  is  very  kind  of  you,"  Florence  replied,  tak- 
ing her  seat  opposite  Nora,  while  Delane  sat  at  the 
side  between  the  two  women. 

He  seemed  to  devote  all  his  attention  to  Mrs. 
Wainwright,  quite  regardless  of  his  sister,  who  kept 
up  a  constant  chatter.  Various  things  were  or- 
dered, all  of  them  much  heartier  and  more  elaborate 
than  Florence  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  at  luncheon. 
But  her  host  was  bent  upon  eating  a  good  deal  and 
insisted  that  she  do  likewise. 

"That  is  one  thing  I've  never  had — a  delicate 


52  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

appetite,"  Nora  exclaimed,  when  Florence  absolutely 
refused  to  allow  Delane  to  order  a  rich  dessert.  "I 
always  say,  what's  your  stomach  for,  if  you  can't 
eat  everything  you  want?" 

"But  sometimes  one  does  not  care  for  a  lot  of 
things,"  Florence  said  quietly. 

"I  suppose  you  got  very  little  to  eat  in  France," 
Miss  Delane  continued  rather  loudly,  in  her  high- 
pitched  voice. 

A  voice, — what  secrets  it  discloses;  what  abysses 
it  opens  up.  How  wonderfully  in  a  moment  it 
strips  bare  the  outward  camouflage  of  clothes  and 
paint  and  powder.  On  the  other  hand,  how  quickly 
it  can  adorn  the  threadbare  coat  or  soiled  linen  with 
qualities  of  the  true  shining  kind  which  represent 
intelligence  and  cultivation.  Miss  Nora's  voice  dis- 
closed deep  gulfs  over  which  it  would  be  difficult  for 
Florence  to  find  a  way;  and  the  last  remark  left 
her  gasping  for  a  reply. 

"I  told  my  sister  about  your  work  in  the  war," 
Delane  said,  to  fill  the  gap.  "Nora  did  a  lot  of 
Red  Cross  work  herself." 

That  seemed  to  close  the  subject ;  and  then  Delane 
tried  to  pay  Mrs.  Wainwright  a  pretty  compliment 
by  speaking  of  how  much  he  had  enjoyed  himself  at 
her  house. 

"I  don't  know  when  I  have  passed  such  a  pleasant 
evening,"  he  affirmed. 

Florence  did  not  mind  his  compliments  so  much  as 
the  way  in  which  he  looked  at  her;  he  was  over-of- 
ficious in  his  attentions  and  almost  patronizing  in 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  53 

his  frequent  queries  as  to  whether  this  or  that  dish 
were  just  as  she  liked  it. 

"I  am  such  an  easy  person  to  entertain,"  she 
finally  said,  by  way  of  remonstrance.  "I  would 
have  been  perfectly  happy  with  a  plate  of  soup  and 
some  bread  and  butter." 

This  seemed  to  amuse  Delane,  and  he  looked  at  his 
sister  as  much  as  to  say,  "See  how  the  poor  dear 
had  to  economize  until  my  money  gave  Kendall  a 
lift." 

Over  the  coffee  at  the  end  of  luncheon,  there  was 
a  moment  while  Nora  was  chattering  about  the  shop- 
ping she  had  done  that  morning  and  the  hat  she  had 
bought  at  Hollander's  for  the  absurdly  low  sum  of 
seventy-five  dollars,  when  Florence  was  conscious 
of  Delane' s  very  intent  gaze  fixed  upon  her.  She 
looked  straight  across  at  the  voluble  lady  opposite, 
but  could  feel  Delane's  eyes  upon  her,  scrutinizing 
every  line  and  contour  of  her  face.  It  was  decidedly 
unpleasant  to  Mrs.  Wainwright;  and  at  last  she 
looked  at  him  quickly  and  sharply  and  said  that  she 
must  go,  having  a  very  full  afternoon  ahead.  Miss 
Nora's  offer  to  take  her  in  her  car  wherever  she 
wished  was  politely  declined. 

When  Florence  reached  the  street  she  felt  that  she 
could  not  have  sat  another  moment  and  listened  to 
the  aimless  chatter  and  been  the  object  of  Delane's 
contemplation.  She  would  have  liked  to  speak  about 
Green  vale  and  perhaps  approach  the  subject  from 
the  angle  she  had  taken  with  Max  the  night  before; 
to  see  what  attitude  toward  it  Delane  would  take; 


54  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

but  nothing  serious  would  have  been  possible  with 
the  raucous  Nora  on  the  scene.  Delane  had  seemed 
really  unobjectionable  when  she  had  met  him  at 
home.  To-day,  with  the  setting  his  sister  lent  to 
his  personality,  he  appeared  more  ordinary  than 
Florence  had  supposed  he  was.  "I  must  always  be 
nice  to  him,"  she  was -thinking :  "  I  must  make  every 
effort  to  go  on  being  nice,  and  I  must  never  let  Max 
know  how  I  feel." 

She  had  so  many  things  to  do  during  the  afternoon 
that  Delane  slipped  out  of  her  mind;  but  when  she 
started  back  to  Marlborough  Street  late  in  the  day 
and  found  herself  in  the  crowd  of  homeward-bound 
pedestrians,  there  was  something  about  the  busy, 
prosperous-looking  men  who  hurried  past  her  that 
recalled  him.  Florence  wondered  just  how.  much 
she  was  likely  to  see  of  him  and  what  his  connection 
with  Max  might  mean  in  her  own  personal  life. 
It  was  that  hour  of  the  winter  afternoon-  when  one 
seems  to  fall  naturally  into  meditation,  although 
caught  up  in  the  swirl  of  people  all  about? — when  the 
sky  above  the  city  turns  a  dazzling  blue  and  grows 
more  intense  in  color  by  contrast  with  the  yellow  of 
the  street  lamps.  These  glitter  and  sparkle  in  a 
competition  of  illumination  with  the  stars  above, 
which  appear  distinctly  in  the  sky  somewhat  later 
than  their  minor  brothers  of  the  earth.  The  tone  of 
the  sky  deepens  until  it  becomes  almost  purple  on  the 
horizon,  where  an  occasional  electric  sign,  high  on 
the  roof  of  a  building,  flashes  and  vibrates  like  a 
handful  of  jewels  dropped  from  above  on  the  roofs 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  55 

of  the  city.  Over  the  middle  of  the  town  a  gray 
shadow  hangs  where  the  trees  of  the  Common  and 
Public  Gardens  gather  the  darkness  of  the  approach- 
ing night,  while  toward  the  five  spires  of  the  Back 
Bay  district,  tiny  figures  in  black  silhouette  move 
along  the  broad  paths  beneath  the  trees.  The  air  is 
cold  and  crisp,  and  every  one  walks  rapidly.  Far  on 
the  edge  of  the  open  spaces  of  the  Common  is  a 
never-ending  procession  of  automobile  lamps,  mov- 
ing rather  slowly  on  account  of  the  dense  mass  of 
traffic.  These  lights  have  the  appearance  of  a  long 
chain  propelled  by  one  master  hand,  so  rhythmic  and 
unceasing  is  their  motion. 

The  return  home  of  the  workers  in  a  city  has  in 
it  quite  as  much  of  poetry  as  the  old  pastoral  scenes 
of  shepherds  crossing  the  fields  in  a  dim  twilight. 
This  evening  Florence  was  more  than  ever  aware  of 
the  fact  that  now  she  was  one  of  these  workers; 
that  her  brother  was  one  of  them,  and  that  they  lived 
in  a  world  of  Delanes  and  hurrying  forces.  This 
meant  new  connections  for  them,  new-  situations 
which  never  had  to  be  met  in  the  old,  placid  days  of 
their  earlier  life. 

She  reached  home  just  in  time  for  dinner.  As 
the  maid  opened  the  door,  a  rather  stout  lady  came 
hurrying  down  the  stairs.  There  was  an  exclama- 
tion, an  embrace  and  vigorous  kisses.  It  was  Susan 
Anderton;  she  had  arrived. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  always  exuberant  Miss  Anderton  drew 
Florence  into  the  living  room  with  various  exclama- 
tions of,  "It's  wonderful  to  see  you  again,  my  dear," 
and,  "Aren't  you  surprised  to  have  me  descend  upon 
you  in  this  way?" 

"I  just  couldn't  stand  New  York  another  day," 
she  continued,  sitting  own  on  the  sofa  with  her  arm 
around  her  friend.  "I  knew  you  would  not  mind 
if  I  came  straight  here.  I  wired  you,  but  of  course 
you  didn't  get  my  telegram." 

"No,"  Florence  said,  "I  have  been  out  all  day." 

"Skirmishing  about,  I  suppose,  for  the  lost, 
strayed  or  stolen,"  Susan  remarked. 

"I  know  you  will  not  take  me  seriously  in  what 
I  am  doing,"  Florence  put  in. 

"Of  course  I  will.  I  think  it  is  perfectly  splen- 
did. Tell  me  all  about  it." 

There  was  so  much  to  be  talked  about,  so  many 
bits  of  Paris  gossip  for  Susan  to  produce,  that  it 
was  some  time  before  the  subject  of  Florence's 
work  was  touched  upon.  In  Miss  Anderton's  com- 
ments upon  it,  Florence  had  a  feeling  that  now  in 
the  atmosphere  of  Susan's  companionship  there 
would  be  a  strange  mixture  of  cross-currents  which 
could  have  only  the  effect  of  making  her  present 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  57 

mode  of  life  appear  somewhat  inconsistent.  See- 
ing Susan  again  had  brought  back  the  memory  of 
the  years  in  Paris — the  life  with  her  husband  and 
his  death  in  the  tragedy  of  the  war — in  a  more  vivid 
manner  than  she  had  experienced  since  her  residence 
in  Boston.  She  could  not  help  but  wonder  just  how 
distracting  it  was  going  to  be  to  have  this  friend 
with  her,  who  would  always  carry  her  mind  back 
to  the  past,  to  her  life  before  it  had  stopped;  for 
everything  since  Jack's  death  had  been  only  an  at- 
tempt to  make  existence  possible. 

Florence  was  not  quite  sure  what  effect  Miss  And- 
erton's  arrival  would  have  upon  her  brother.  His 
frown  the  night  before  had  caused  her  to  doubt  his 
pleasure  upon  hearing  of  that  lady's  advent.  That 
she  had  descended  upon  them  so  unexpectedly  might 
cause  more  than  a  frown.  However,  all  he  said  was 
that  it  was  like  Susan  to  allow  her  letter  to  precede 
her  by  only  a  day. 

"Do  your  best  to  get  her  an  apartment,"  he  added. 

"Of  course,"  Florence  replied  sweetly.  "But  be 
as  nice  as  you  can  to  her  while  she  is  with  us." 

Miss  Anderton  had  gone  upstairs  to  get  ready  for 
dinner,  and  Florence  had  taken  this  opportunity  to 
prepare  her  brother  fqr  her  apppearance. 

At  dinner  Max  was  seized  with  that  feeling  of 
uncertainty  in  connection  with  this  friend  of  his  sis- 
ter which  he  had  experienced  years  before,  in  his 
association  with  her  in  Paris.  She  was  apparently 
a  frank,  simple  type,  yet  was  always  producing  in 
him  the  idea  that  she  meant  much  more  than  she  said 


58  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

and  that  from  her  actions  one  might  infer  much 
more  than  appeared  on  the  surface.  Her  complex- 
ities of  mind,  combined  with  her  unstudied  manner, 
troubled  him  again  to-night  as  he  sat  opposite  her  at 
dinner.  He  always  had  felt  vaguely,  although  find- 
ing no  definite  facts  to  base  his  belief  on,  that  her  in- 
fluence upon  Florence  was  not  good.  Yet  Susan 
was  irreproachable  in  character  in  spite  of  a  some- 
what unpleasant  effect  which  her  personality  had 
upon  people  who  knew  her  but  slightly.  She  was 
undoubtedly  good-looking  in  a  broad,  expansive  sort 
of  way.  When  she  smiled,  you  would  have  been  in- 
clined to  unburden  your  soul  to  her,  provided  there 
were  things  upon  your  soul  that  only  the  elect  could 
hear.  When  her  face  was  sober  in  repose,  a  cer- 
tain cynicism  appeared  around  the  eyes  and  mouth 
which  would  have  made  you  wonder  just  what  use 
she  might  make  of  your  confidence,  and  just  how 
far  her  criticism  would  be  sincere.  How  her  in- 
fluence upon  Florence  was  not  good,  Max  would 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  say.  Perhaps  it  was  merely 
a  question  of  the  dominating  quality  of  Susan,  ab- 
sorbing into  her  own  the  lesser  personalities  with 
which  she  came  in  contact.  There  are  certain 
people  whose  friends  always  seem  somewhat  less 
strong  in  character  than  themselves, — wholly  charm- 
ing souls  but  who  seem  not  to  have  the  same  stead- 
fastness of  purpose.  Susan  was  one  of  them.  She 
seemed  always  to  bask  in  the  bright  light  of  health 
and  vigor;  her  friends  shone  in  the  light  she  re- 
flected, not  in  their  own. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  59 

When  Max  found  she  was  in  his  house  to-night, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  like  her  as  much  as  possible ; 
to  permit  her  to  make  the  same  impression  on  him 
that  she  had  done  during  those  early  days  in  Paris 
when  she  had  frequented  the  Wainwright  menage 
and  had  been  able  to  amuse  him  and  create  for  him 
a  certain  foreign  atmosphere  which  was  lacking  in 
his  sister's  familiar  mode  of  life.  Yet  now  the 
feeling  returned  of  not  being  sure  just  how  to  ap- 
proach Susan. 

The  conversation  wandered  on  to  Greenvale  and 
Kendall's  business  prospects. 

"Your  new  suburb  will  be  ideal,"  Susan  said. 
"How  splendid  to  be  able  in  this  country  to  get  away 
from  the  clash  of  the  trolleys.  I  think  I  should  like 
to  live  there.  You  must  build  a  dear  little  house 
for  me,  Max,  and  I  will  have  a  garden  and  raise 
tulips.  I  will  make  Greenvale  famous  for  its 
tulips." 

Florence  looked  at  her  brother  with  an  amused 
expression. 

"My  dear  lady,"  Max  said  firmly.  "That  is  the 
only  thing  which  is  holding  us  up  now, — trying  to 
get  the  electric  car  line  put  through  to  our  prop- 
erty." 

"What  a  mistake  you  make,"  Miss  Anderton  re- 
plied. "It  will  ruin  the  place." 

"Not  for  the  dividends,"  Florence  put  in.  "Be- 
sides, it  is  to  be  most  unfashionable.  I  can't  fancy 
Susan  living  in  a  place  that  was  not  smart." 

"I  hear  one  may  do  anything  in  America  and 


60  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

preserve  one's  character,"  Susan  remarked.  "I  in- 
tend to  be  quite  reckless  over  here." 

She  looked  at  Max  and  smiled.  He  turned  his  at- 
tention to  his  dinner. 

"You  will  find,"  Florence  said,  "that  you  can't 
be  so  individual  here  as  in  Europe.  That  is,  with- 
out attracting  a  lot  of  notice." 

"In  other  words,  Americans  are  awful  busy- 
bodies,"  Susan  replied,  with  a  slight  raising  of  her 
eyebrows.  "They  always  were.  Altruistic  prin- 
ciples have  seized  the  nation,  and  you  are  all  bent  on 
reform,  which  soon  becomes  an  annoying  inquisi- 
tiveness  to  know  every  one  else's  affairs. 

Florence  smiled  indulgently,  while  Max  remained 
lost  in  thought. 

"I  should  say,"  Susan  continued,  "that  at  present 
this  country  is  mad  on*  the  subject  of  uplift.  Even 
you,  Florence,  have  been  tainted  with  the  yellow 
journalism  of  salvation.  The  old-time  Puritan 
preachers  had  the  decency  to  stay  in  their  pulpits; 
nowadays  every  one  must  run  about  and  pry  into 
other  people's  affairs.  Instead  of  living  a  life  of 
leisure  in  a  charming  house  with  a  charming 
brother" — at  this  Max  frowned  a  little — "you  must 
spend  your  days  in  some  dingy  slum,  deluded  by  the 
thought  that  the  much  pampered  working  class  is 
aware  of  your  presence  and  affected  by  it." 

There  was  a  silence.  Perhaps  she  had  said  too 
much.  Miss  Anderton  rarely  made  mistakes  of 
this  tactless  sort,  but  just  now  she  had  spoken  rather 
too  emphatically  on  a  subject  which  was  bound  to  be 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  61 

very  near  Florence's  heart.  There  had  been 
throughout  dinner  something  in  the  attitude  of  Max 
that  was  decidedly  annoying.  Accustomed  for 
years  to  being  the  central  figure  of  brilliant  dinner 
tables,  listened  to,  laughed  at  and  applauded,  Susan 
felt  in  the  quiet  chill  of  this  dimly  lighted  Boston 
room  an  atmosphere  of  almost  definite  hostility. 
Her  imagination  was  enlarging  a  little  upon  the  void 
which  she  felt  in  the  New  England  perspective. 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  unkind,"  she  said,  after  a 
moment.  "I  only  wish  to  help  you,  to  advise  you, 
dear;  to  be  a  kind  of  elder  sister  taking  a  lively  in- 
terest in  what  you  are  doing.  You  look  so  frail — 
so  different  from  the  way  I  remember  you;  and  to- 
night you  seem  so  tired  that  I  would  only  try  to 
make  you  realize  you  cannot  attempt  too  much  in 
this  work  which  interests  you;  that  your  friends 
have  some  claim  upon  you.  If  I  should  say  that  you 
are  meant  for  something  better,  you  would  say  I  did 
not  know, — that  what  you  are  doing  is  the  best  sort 
of  thing.  But  there  must  be  others  who,  more  fitted 
for  the  work,  are  better  able  to  cope  with  the  diffi- 
culties and  stand  up  under  the  strain  of  it.  Don't 
you  think  I  am  right,  Max?" 

<<fYes;  you  probably  are  right,"  he  answered, 
showing  .much  less  interest  than  Miss  Anderton  had 
supposed  he  would  take  in  the  matter.  "But  Flor- 
ence is  right,  too.  As  life  is  lived  now  in  America, 
I  think  it  is  no  longer  possible  for  a  person  of  an  ac- 
tive turn  of  mind  not  to  go  in  for  something  or 
other.  It  may  be  baby  hygiene  and  pure  milk ;  an- 


62  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

imal  rescue  or  anti-vivisection,  but  every  one  has  a 
particular  bee  in  his  bonnet.  That  may  be  why  the 
people  who  desire  a  picturesque  life  of  leisure  em- 
igrate to  Europe.  The  workers  come  in  and  the 
molluscs  go  out." 

"In  other  words,"  Susan  exclaimed,  "the  dregs  of 
Europe  will  take  the  place  of  your  finer  spirits.  But 
I  will  not  be  called  a  mollusc.  That  was  a  nasty 
thrust,"  she  added,  laughing.  "I  am  sure  I  never 
had  vacant  moments  in  my  daily  program  when  I 
lived  abroad." 

"Never,  Susan,"  Florence  replied.  "You  were 
always  the  most  delightful  hostess  and  a  thoroughly 
energetic  soul." 

"But  I  am  sure  to-night  your  brother  considers 
me  quite  useless  on  this  side  of  the  ocean,"  Susan 
said,  as  they  got  up  from  the  table. 

Later  that  evening,  after  Max  had  retired  to  his 
books  and  pipe,  and  the  two  women  sat  talking  to- 
gether of  old  times  and  mutual  friends, — all  those 
emancipated  creatures  who  were  drifting  back  to 
Europe  to  try  to  find  some  echo  of  the  froth  of  life 
as  it  was  lived  before  the  war, — Miss  Anderton 
chanced  to  remark  that  all  that — meaning  Flor- 
ence's life  in  Paris — was  entirely  unlike  her  present 
existence.  Florence  replied  that  of  course  she  knew 
Susan  would  not  approve  of  her  now,  but  notwith- 
standing this,  she  considered  all  she  was  doing  far 
more  worth  while  and  interesting  than  the  old  years 
of  happy  idleness. 

"It  depends  a  good  deal  on  whether  you  want  to 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  63 

lead  your  own  life  as  you  choose  or  make  the  other 
fellow's  way  easier;  to  be  happy  yourself  or  make 
some  one  else  happy,"  Susan  interrupted.  "I  have 
always  been  rather  pagan  in  that  respect." 

"But  you  see,"  Florence  went  on,  "I  have  not 
taken  up  this  work  with  any  such  ideas.  I  did  not 
enter  upon  it  with  wholly  altruistic  purposes;  nor 
become  imbued  with  Socialism  and  mad  on  the  sub- 
ject of  votes  for  women.  I  had  to  absorb  myself 
completely  in  something,  and  this  was  the  nearest  to 
my  grasp  and  the  most  interesting." 

If  there  were  one  thing  especially  typical  of  Flor- 
ence, it  was  that  she  was  always  truthful  with  her- 
self. This  declaration  to  Miss  Anderton  was  char- 
acteristic of  her  wish  never  to  fly  under  false  colors. 
Her  mother  used  to  tell  a  story  of  her  as  a  child, 
when  she  had  been  found  one  day  high  up  in  an 
apple  tree,  trying  to  make  her  descent  with  a  kitten 
which  she  had  rescued  from  a  barking  puppy.  A 
neighbor,  probably  a  member  of  the  humane  society, 
if  such  a  thing  existed  in  those  days,  thought  it 
showed  a  fine  spirit  toward  animals ;  but  the  youth- 
ful Florence  rather  took  the  wind  out  of  her 
sentiment  when  she  announced  that  she  had  made  the 
ascent  into  the  tree  merely  to  satisfy  herself.  That 
she  had  always  wanted  to  climb  that  particular  apple 
tree  and  nurse  would  never  let  her;  but  when  she  saw 
the  kitten  pursued  by  the  dog,  she  thought  that 
now  was  her  chance.  She  had  an  excuse  for  the 
climb,  and  any  rebuke  that  might  be  forthcoming 
would  be  overlooked, — as,  in  fact,  it  had  been,  only 


64  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

praise  being  given  the  little  girl  for  her  kindness  to 
animals. 

Florence  was  beginning  to-  realize,  as  she  had 
suspected  when  she  first  heard  that  S^isan  was  in 
America,  that  her  friend  was  going  to  be  a  disturb- 
ing influence  to  her  concentration  in  her  work.  She 
would  not  let  this  influence  shake  her  or  lead  to  any 
slackening  of  effort  on  her  part;  she  was  far  too 
sincere  in  everything  she  did  for  that  to  happen. 
But  still  it  was  there;  the  quiet,  critical  attitude  of 
the  friend  who  was  closer  to  her  than  any  one  in  the 
world.  Closer  even  than  Max,  for  his  state  of  mind 
had  never  gone  beyond  those  simple  impressions  of 
youth  when'  one  of  his  temperanient  views  life 
simply  and  accepts  things  easily.  Besides,  Florence 
had  been  separated  from  her  brother  during  the  most 
vivid  years  of  her  existence,  and  the  companionship 
of  the  past  year  had  not  served  to  bridge  the  gulf 
which  would  always  lie  between  their  natures. 

The  next  day  Florence  thought  a  good  deal  of 
what  Susan  had  said ;  yet  not  so  much  of  what  was 
said  as  what  her  attitude  implied.  It  was  evident 
that  Miss  Anderton  would  never  be  able  to  enter 
upon  that  perfect  plane  of  understanding  which  had 
been  their  common  ground  in  the  old  days.  It  might 
be  that  the  light,  inconsequent  mood  that  belonged 
essentially  to  those  times  was  gone  from  her  forever ; 
but  she  wondered  if  she  had  really  outgrown  her 
friend..  Susan  now  seemed  a  little  removed  in  her 
sympathy,  and  Florence  rather  dreaded  another  in- 
timate conversation;  so  it  was  with  a  certain  relief 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  65 

that  she  saw  Delane  appear  on  the  second  evening 
of  Miss  Anderton's  stay  in  the  Kendall  home.  An- 
other discussion  of  Florence's  affairs  would  not  be 
possible. 

As  Max  brought  Delane  into  the  room  where  his 
sister  and  her  friend  were  sitting,  Florence  was  glad 
of  this  chance  for  Susan  to  meet  him.  What  would 
be  her  impression?  Surely  he  was  a  new  type  to 
her;  a  personality  striking  in  a  different  way  from 
the  many  striking  and  strident!  individuals  with 
whom  Miss  Anderton  had  come  in  contact  during 
her  various  peregrinations  over  the  continent  of 
Europe.  He  was  the  product  of  certain  forces  and 
tendencies  which  had  scarcely  started  when  the  ad- 
mirable Susan  brushed  the  dust  of  America  from  her 
feet  many  years  ago. 

Any  doubts  about  the  impression  Delane  might 
make  or  fail  to  make  were  quickly  settled  by  the 
cordiality  of  Susan  toward  him,  and  the  greater  ease 
which  Delane  displayed  to-night  than  on  the  oc- 
casion of  his  former  visit.  He  chatted  quite  merrily 
with  Susan  while  Florence  and  Max  sat  listening. 

"I  really  had  no  idea,  Mr.  Delane,  that  people 
could  do  such  things,"  Susan  was  saying.  "You  are 
a  wonder." 

"You  mean  with  the  land?"  Delane  asked. 

"No;  more  especially  the  way  you  have  trans- 
formed Max  Kendall  into  a  vital,  up-to-the-moment 
person  from  the  somewhat  casual  but  wholly  delight- 
ful creature  I  knew  in  Paris." 

"I  don't  think  I  have  done  anything  in  the  trans- 


66  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

formation  line.  You  see,  the  land  belonged  to  Max. 
It's  the  land  that  has  done  the  trick." 

"Land  or  no  land,"  Susan  exclaimed,  "he  is  quite 
different,  and  it  takes  more  than  a  piece  of  real 
estate  to  work  such  changes.  Yes,  really  it  is  su- 
perb," she  went  on.  "It  seems  as  though  that  is  the 
very  thing  which  is  'being  done  now  in  America. 
Unexpected  vistas  of  people  are  constantly  opening; 
one's  mental  attitude  is  always  changing,  and  like 
wizards,  you  newer  people" —  Florence  wondered 
how  Delane  would  take  that;  probably  all  right, 
she  thought,  as  very  likely  he  did  not  consider  him- 
self one  of  the  newer  people — "are  magically  chang- 
ing the  most  conservative  types  and  institutions  into 
living,  alert  realities.  There  seems  to  be  an  over- 
abundance of  vitality  here  which  is  striking  fire 
from  rocks  and  bringing  the  lightning  down  from 
above." 

"It  is  immense  to  hear  you  talk  that  way,"  Delane 
said  enthusiastically. 

"Not  nearly  so  immense  as  to  sit  by  and  see  what 
you  are  doing,"  Susan  came  back  quite  majestically. 

Surely  she  is  a  wonder,  thought  Florence;  three 
weeks  in  the  United  States  and  talking  as  though  she 
knew  the  key  to  the  whole  situation  of  things  in  this 
country.  Even  if  she  did  not  always  hit  the  mark, 
the  zest  of  her  spirit  made  up  for  any  lack  of  correct 
perspective.  Of  course  Delane  would  be  captivated. 
Susan's  abundance  of  animal  spirits  would  strike 
just  the  right  note  in  him. 

"Some  day  I   want  you  to  take  me — you  and 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  67 

Max,"  she  was  saying,  "out  to  your  property.  I 
would  like  to  see  a  place  of  that  sort  grow.  There 
must  be  something  thrilling  in  watching  roses  come 
where  there  were  only  weeds." 

"What  she  means,"  Max  said,  laughing,  "is  to 
see  the  tomato  cans  removed  and  model  tenements 
spring  from  dump  heaps." 

"I  will  have  it  my  way,  though,"  Susan  continued. 
"I  will  see  your  Greenvale — is  that  the  name? — 
live  up  to  its  expectations.  You  really  can't  call 
a  place  by  such  a  name  unless  you  cause  the  wilder- 
ness to  blossom.  Your  houses  are  not  complete  if 
they  have  no  gardens.  You  know  what  I  said 
last  night,  Max,  about  the  little  house  you  must 
build  for  me  where  I  shall  raise  tulips." 

Delane  looked  at  Max  in  a  rather  disconcerted 
manner.  Had  Kendall  gone  out  of  his  mind,  prom- 
ising houses  for  very  smart  ladies  with  gardens  in 
which  they  could  grow  flowers? 

Seeing  his  expression,  Max  smiled. 

"It  is  all  right,  Jim,  old  man,"  he  said.  "You 
must  not  believe  all  this  very  excellent  woman  tells 
you,  or  be  carried  off  your  feet  by  the  color  of  her 
tulips." 

This  was  more  like  the  attitude  he  had  first  taken 
toward  Susan,  and  it  pleased  her.  It  was  like  a 
breath  of  the  early  days  in  Paris  when  he  had  joked 
and  bantered  with  her  about  some  of  her  ideas. 
She  showed  her  pleasure  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked 
across  at  him  now.  Florence  also  was  beaming; 
for  these  were  her  ideas, — to  develop  the  new  sub- 


68  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

urban  tract  into  something  more  attractive  than 
mere  rows  of  houses.  Perhaps  here  would  lie  the 
common  ground  on  which  she  could  walk  again  in 
complete  sympathy  with  her  friend. 

"I  think  what  Susan  suggests  is  splendid,"  was 
all  she  said.  "Even  if  the  soil  of  Greenvale  prove 
to  be  unfitted  to  the  cultivation  of  tulips,  surely 
poppies  will  grow  in  the  most  unpromising  condi- 
tions." 

"Yes,"  Max  remarked,  turning  to  Delane,  "my 
sister  was  talking  to  me  a  short  time  ago  about  the 
possibilities  in  the  Greenvale  property  which  she 
thinks  you  and  I  are  missing.  She  had  in  mind  a 
sort  of  garden  city." 

He  had  not  spoken  of  this  before  to  Delane,  who 
was  taken  somewhat  by  surprise  and  showed  it. 

"You  probably  know  what  has  been  done  in 
England  along  that  line,"  Miss  Anderton  said  to 
him.  "Such  perfectly  lovely  little  settlements  have 
sprung  up  outside  some  of  the  great  cities.  There 
are  flowers,  gardens,  and  curving  vistas  down  what 
seem  for  all  the  world  the  streets  of  a  mediaeval 
town." 

Susan  was  sure  Delane  knew  nothing  of  all  this, 
— that  it  was  untouched  ground  to  him  ;  but  her  tone 
was  such  that  it  implied  he  knew  exactly  what  she 
was  talking  about.  In  this  man  she  had  seen  at 
once  there  were  great  depths  of  ignorance,  and 
seeing  this,  she  also  realized  that  the  surest  approach 
to  him  would  be  to  take  for  granted  that  he  knew 
about  many  things  of  which  even  the  names  perhaps 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  69 

were  unfamiliar ;  and  that  he  must  be  told,  yet  told 
so  delicately  that  he  would  not  perceive  he  was 
receiving  instruction  along  the  untrodden  paths  of 
his  mind.  She  did  not  give  him  a  chance  to  say 
that  he  never  had  heard  of  the  so-called  garden 
cities ;  but  went  on  quickly  to  a  more  detailed  account 
of  some  visits  she  had  paid  them,  what  she  had 
seen  and — thrown  in  quite  casually — what  she  had 
thought  about  it  all, — this  really  being  the  most 
important  part 

Delane  was  very  attentive,  although  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  did  not  at  the  moment  in  any  way 
apply  to  the  present  or  future  exigencies  of  the 
Greenvale  Holding  Company  the  somewhat  copious 
information  Miss  Anderton  was  scattering  about 
her.  He  was  eager  to  learn  all  he  could  where  he 
could.  He  had  the  desire  of  a  recently  awakened 
mind  to  drink  in  every  bit  of  knowledge  about  all 
sorts  of  things  which  should  come  his  way.  While 
he  did  not  see  the  application  of  gardens  and  med- 
iaeval streets  to  the  prosaic  lines  of  straight  roads 
which  stared  him  in  the  face  every  day  from  the 
blue  prints  of  the  surveyors'  plans  on  the  walls  of 
his  office,  yet  he  felt  the  prick  of  new  things,  ap- 
parently old  and  taken  for  granted  by  the  initiated, 
but  which  he  never  had  come  upon  even  in  the  most 
transitory  way. 

He  went  home,  quite  dazzled  by  the  personality 
of  Miss  Anderton,  this  creature  so  strange  and  new 
to  his  former  habits  of  mind.  There  was  a  definite- 
ness  of  approach  in  her  maimer  which  struck  him 


70  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

as  different  from  all  the  other  women  he  had  known. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  not  known  many  except  of  the 
passant  le  temps  variety;  and  perhaps  not  the  best 
of  that  kind.  His  sister  was  a  fair  type  of  what 
until  now  he  had  considered  the  feminine  mind. 
While  he  could  not  express  it  to  himself,  there  was 
something  of  the  masculine  about  Miss  Anderton 
which  had  made  it  easy  for  him  to  understand  her. 
He  felt  as  though  he  had  always  known  her. 

But  Florence  was  by  no  means  forced  out  of  the 
picture  by  the  larger  personality  of  Miss  Anderton. 
Delane  was  more  and  more  impressed  by  her  charm, 
her  grace,  and  what  he  pleased  to  call  her  exceeding 
kindness  to  himself.  Of  course  Florence,  so  natur- 
ally kind  and  gracious  to  every  one,  could  not  know 
that  Delane  was  interpreting  her  manner  toward 
him  as  something  very  special  or  particular;  but 
there  she  was,  a  figure  radiant  and  beautiful  to  him, 
causing  him  more  thought  and  interesting  him  more 
than  any  one  he  had  met  in  a  long  time.  To-night 
he  thought  she  never  had  looked  so  well;  her  dark 
blue  gown  with  the  lace  at  the  throat  and  cuffs  made 
her  rather  pale  face  seem  to  shine  out  under  the 
rich  mass  of  deep  auburn  hair.  He  observed  every 
motion  she  made,  and  every  time  she  spoke  he 
watched  the  play  of  expression  about  her  eyes  and 
mouth.  He  had  known  girls  with  mouths  just  as 
pretty;  he  certainly  had  seen  girls  with  hair  of  a 
more  beautiful  color,  but  no  one  had  been  quite  like 
Mrs.  Wainwright.  Everything  about  her  was  fine. 
He  wondered  if  it  were  merely  this  fineness  that 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  71 

made  him  think  so  much  about  her,  or  something 
far  different  and  deeper. 

Florence,  too,  was  immensely  pleased  by  the  out- 
come of  the  evening.  Delane  had  appeared  to  bet- 
ter advantage;  and  the  note  of  cordiality  which 
had  been  struck  between  himself  and  Miss  Anderton 
was  distinctly  interesting.  Max,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  not  so  comfortable  in  his  mind.  It  was  the 
quality  in  Susan  of  taking  people  by  storm  which 
he  never  had  liked.  She  had  done  it  with  him  in 
Paris,  although  he  was  sufficiently  sophisticated  to 
know  that  he  was  being  taken  by  storm.  Besides, 
he  never  was  really  swept  off  his  feet  by  any  one. 
Perhaps  that  was  why  he  had  never  married.  Prob- 
ably Susan  Anderton  had  interested  him  at  one 
time  as  much  as  it  would  ever  be  possible  for  any 
one  to  do ;  yet  he  always  had  seen  through  her.  He 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  seen  through  her  even 
when  he  had  been  most  enchanted  by  her  person- 
ality. Then  he  had  come  to  dislike  her,  to  be  sus- 
picious of  her.  So  now,  it  was  something  of  a  shock 
and  not  wholly  to  his  fancy  to  see  her  appear  on  his 
horizon  and  work  her  old  tricks, — and  on  his  part- 
ner in  business,  which  made  the  matter  worse. 
Naturally  Delane  was  easy  prey.  He  was  a  child 
in  the  nuances  of  life.  He  would  take  Susan  whole- 
heartedly, which  apparently  was  just  the  way  she 
had  taken  him. 

Upstairs  Susan  was  saying  to  Florence,  as  she 
bade  her  good-night,  that  Mr.  Delane  was  a  fresh 
type,  very  good-looking,  and  that  much  might  be 


72  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

made  of  him.  Florence  replied  that  she  was  not 
much  interested  in  the  making;  she  would  leave 
that  to  Max.  But  of  course  Susan  meant  some- 
thing quite  different.  She  always  had  found  it 
amusing  to  absorb  people, — to  "get  them"  for  all 
they  were  worth.  Here  was  a  new  experiment  for 
her. 


CHAPTER  V 

Through  the  next  few  weeks  Max  noticed  in 
Delane  a  certain  moodiness,  something  like  absent- 
mindedness,  if  such  a  thing  had  been  possible  in  a 
man  of  Delane's  type.  It  was  not  that  he  in  any 
way  slackened  in  his  efforts  concerning  the  property, 
but  all  his  movements  were  carried  on  in  a  new  man- 
ner, like  a  person  playing  a  part  while  the  mind 
wandered  to  things  remote  from  the  matter  in  hand. 
What  these  things  were  Max  could  not  guess. 
Sometimes  Delane,  in  the  midst  of  writing  and 
going  over  figures  and  plans,  would  get  up,  go  to 
the  window  and  stand  looking  down  into  the  street ; 
or  open  drawers  and  read  letters  just  perused,  or 
answer  some  question  irrelevantly  while  talking 
business  with  Kendall.  Sometimes  Delane  would 
ask  Max  quite  suddenly  what  his  sister  and  Miss 
Anderton  were  doing  that  evening ;  whether  it  would 
be  all  right  for  him  to  run  up  to  see  them,  or  if  they 
had  been  to  some  show  lately  come  to  town. 

Max  knew  that  the  introduction  to  Susan  had 
had  a  definite  effect  upon  his  partner, — their  first 
meeting  having  been  followed  by  another  evening  at 
the  Kendall  house  and  by  several  talks  over  the 
telephone  when  Delane  was  trying  to  arrange  to  have 
Miss  Anderton  and  Mrs.  Wainwright  come  to  tea 
with  him  some  afternoon  at  one  of  the  uptown 


74  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

hotels  where  there  was  very  good  dance  music.  The 
ladies  in  Maryborough  Street,  however,  had  not 
accepted  any  of  his  invitations;  but  not  through  any 
disinclination  on  the  part  of  Susan.  She  liked  him. 
Max  knew  this  and  could  only  attribute  the  new 
attitude  of  Delane  to  something  which  had  been 
awakened  in  him  by  the  contact  with  his  sister's 
friend.  Any  possible  effect  made  by  Florence  he 
thought  must  have  been  too  slight  to  cause  even  a 
ripple  on  the  placid  surface  of  the  unromantic  Jim, 
absorbed  to  his  ears  in  the  details  of  his  business. 
Perhaps  Kendall  was  a  much  too  confirmed  bachelor 
to  know  what  gentle  currents  may  do  when  flowing 
in  a  particular  direction. 

However,  the  newer  manner  was  evident  to  Max, 
not  given,  as  we  know,  to  subtleties ;  and  he  espe- 
cially noticed  it  on  this  particular  day  three  of  four 
weeks  after  the  introduction  of  Delane  to  the  Ken- 
dall home,  when  he  proposed  a  theater  party  for  the 
"four  of  them,"  explaining  as  a  matter  of  brotherly 
feeling,  apparently,  that  it  would  be  better  not  to  in- 
clude Nora,  as  her  presence  would  over-balance  the 
party  in  the  number  of  women.  For  a  moment 
Max  felt  lost  for  an  excuse,  feeling  sure  that  Flor- 
ence would  not  care  for  such  an  entertainment  made, 
as  it  undoubtedly  would  be  if  Delane  were  the  host, 
with  a  certain  amount  of  show  and  followed  by  an 
elaborate  supper  after  the  theater;  but  he  could  not 
go  on  evading  Delane's  proposals  indefinitely. 

"When  I  go  home  to  dinner  I  will  ask  them,"  was 
all  he  said. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  75 

"Why  not  telephone?"  Delane  questioned. 

"But  there  is  no  hurry.     Any  night  will  do." 

"I  feel  like  the  theater.  I  should  like  to  see  a 
ripping  good  show  to-night,"  Delane  went  on,  in 
the  rather  enthusiastic  manner  o£  a  child. 

Max  thought  that  any  arrangement  for  to-night 
was  out  of  the  question;  but  he  only  said  he  believed 
his  sister  had  an  engagement  for  the  evening,  and 
that  he  would  ask  her  to  name  a  possible  night. 

Delane  looked  at  Max  curiously  for  a  moment,  a 
certain  hardness  showing  in  his  face.  He  started 
to  say  something,  exclaiming  "I  wonder,"  and  then 
stopped  suddenly  to  turn  again  to  his  desk  and 
papers. 

"What  do  you  wonder?"  Max  inquired  cheerfully. 

"Nothing,"  was  all  Delane  answered.  Then 
added,  "Your  sister  seems  to  have  a  lot  to  do." 

Max  made  no  reply ;  it  was  hardly  the  concern  of 
Delane  what  Florence  had  or  had  not  to  do.  From 
the  very  first  moment  of  his  connection  with  this 
man,  when  he  had  talked  informally  with  him 
about  his  land  in  the  suburbs  lying  undeveloped  for 
want  of  capital  and  had  seen  in  the  enthusiasm  of 
Delane's  attention  and  subsequent  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject a  broad  horizon  of  possibilities  opening  out 
should  the  .Delane  money  be  invoked, — these  pos- 
sibilities always  linked  with  the  idea  of  the  added  ad- 
vantage they  would  bring  to  his  sister — Max  had 
resolved  that  Florence  should  never  enter  even  re- 
motely into  any  side  of  the  relation,  should  such  a 
relationship  for  business  reasons  grow  up  between 


76  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

himself  and  Delane.  The  introduction  of  Jim  to  his 
house  had  been  a  matter  of  only  common  decency 
after  the  growth  of  the  close  connection  in  which 
they  found  themselves.  It  had  been  a  pity,  Max  was 
beginning  to  realize,  that  the  advent  of  Susan  Ander- 
ton  had  formed  a  newer  and  stronger  link  between 
Delane  and  his  own  life,  as  it  existed  beyond  the 
deep  chasm  of  State  Street,  than  he  supposed  the 
mere  bringing  of  Florence  into  the  scene  ever  could 
have  furnished. 

But  Delane  was  speaking  again.  "I  have  called 
up  Miss  Anderton  several  times,"  he  said,  "to  see  if 
she  and  your  sister  would  come  out  with  me  some 
afternoon  to  dance  and  meet  my  sister  Nora.  Nora 
would  like  Miss  Anderton  awfully  well — she's  met 
Mrs.  Wainwright,  you  know.  Nora  doesn't  know 
a  great  lot  of  people.  That  is,  not  your  kind  of 
people.  It  would  be  fine.  But  your  sister  always 
seems  to  be  going  somewhere  or  doing  something, 
and  Miss  Anderton  says  she  cannot  come  without 
her.  I  really  think,  though,  she  would  like  to." 

Quite  likely,  thought  Max.  It  would  not  be  at 
all  unlike  Susan  to  wish  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  Miss  Nora  Delane. 

It  never  had  occurred  to  Kendall  that  Delane  was 
a  social  climber.  It  hardly  seemed  likely  now, 
even  in  view  of  his  last  remarks  and  the  recent  at- 
tempts to  entertain  Susan  and  Florence ;  as  the  Ken- 
dall place  in  the  world  of  social  affairs  was  too 
inconspicuous  because  of  its  very  surety  for  Delane 
to  place  his  hopes  upon  any  ladder  which  might  be 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  77 

placed  by  Mrs.  Wainwright  for  him  to  ascend. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  simpler  idea  behind  all  this 
than  possible  schemes  for  the  advancement  of  sister 
Nora's  ambitions.  Besides,  Delane  was  a  man  pe- 
culiarly without  a  standard  in  regard  to  the  matter 
of  class  distinctions.  In  his  own  view  of  things,  he 
undoubtedly  considered  the  status  of  Kendall  and  all 
that  went  with  Kendall's  sphere  in  life  as  little  better 
than  his  own.  Perhaps  not  so  good,  as  the  money 
was  all  on  his  side.  That  there  was  a  difference  he 
saw  clearly;  but  the  difference  did  not  bear  any 
advantage  perceptible  to  him.  He  was  quite  happy 
as  he  was, — rich  and  powerful.  No ;  there  certainly 
was  something  else,  Max  concluded,  that  had  caused 
what  he  named  to  himself  as  moodiness  in  his  part- 
ner. 

A  few  days  later  Max  was  again  assailed  on  the 
matter  of  the  theater.  There  had  been  excuses  and 
evasions,  and  it  now  seemed  necessary  to  arrange 
rather  definitely  some  party  by  which  Delane  would 
be  thrown  again  with  Florence  and  Susan.  A  jour- 
ney to  Greenvale  was  suggested, -with  the  idea  that 
the  Delane  motor  should  take  Florence  and  her 
brother  and  Miss  Anderton  out  to  the  much-talked- 
of  property.  Delane  seemed  agreeable  to  this  plan, 
although  he  insisted  that  it  would  be  something  of 
a  shock  to  the  ladies  to  find  the  place  a  barren  wilder- 
ness of  dumping  grounds,  a  desultory  ash  heap,  as 
it  were.  "Like  a  state  tour  of  inspection  with 
nothing  to  inspect"  was  the  way  he  put  it.  He 
wondered  just  what  lay  behind  this  sudden  desire 


78  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

of  Max  for  Mrs.  Wainwright  and  her  friend  to 
visit  Greenvale. 

"Do  you  take  much  stock  in  all  this  garden 
business  Miss  Anderton  was  talking  about?"  he 
asked. 

"A  lot  of  damned  rot,  in  my  opinion,"  came 
back  quickly  from  Kendall. 

Probably  he  was  right.  Perhaps  the  garden 
city  idea  does  not  appeal  to  the  great  American 
Commonwealth,  where  the  people,  if  they  want  gar- 
dens, will  have  them  as  they  jolly  well  please  with- 
out any  fuss  about  municipal  planning  and  the 
picturesque  lay-out  of  streets.  Moreover,  ugliness 
is  so  taken  for  granted  in  our  mushroom  commun- 
ities that  the  ideal  of  beauty  is  not  only  not  looked 
for  but  is  not  even  given  a  thought. 

Of  course,  Delane  was  glad  to  hear  his  partner 
speak  in  this  way.  He  would  not  like  to  feel  that 
he  was  associated  in  business  with  a  visionary  sort 
of  person  or  one  whose  imagination  might  run  riot 
in  dealing  with  a  commonplace  proposition. 

The  day  on  which  the  motor  trip  was  undertaken 
was  quite  the  worst  imaginable,  being  very  cold 
and  dusty  as  only  Boston  can  be  gray  and  dusty 
and  cold  in  the  winter  time.  As  Greenvale  was 
somewhere  beyond  Dorchester,  Delane  proposed 
that  they  should  stop  on  the  way  and  pick  up  his 
sister,  who  always  went  out  in  the  motor  in  the 
afternoon. 

"It  will  give  you  a  chance  to  meet  Nora,"  he 
said,  addressing  Miss  Anderton.  As  no  reply  was 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  79 

made  to  this,  he  added,  "My  sister  has  been  awfully 
keen  about  meeting  you  ever  since  she  heard  that 
you  had  come  to  visit  Mrs.  Wainwright." 

Apparently  Miss  Delane  was  expecting  to  be 
picked  up,  as  there  was  nothing  casual  in  her  ap- 
pearance as  she  stood  at  the  top  of  the  granite  steps 
leading  up  to  the  Delane  house.  She  was  dressed 
as  sumptuously  as  the  occasion  permitted — with  a 
few  extra  flourishes  to  make  an  ordinary  event  ap- 
pear in  the  light  of  an  occasion — in  a  gown  of  hori- 
zon blue  cloth  with  a  huge  muff  of  gray  squirrel  and 
gray  velvet  hat  with  numerous  touches  of  gold. 

"Won't  the  ladies  come  in?"  she  called  to  Jim, 
as  she  came  down  the  steps. 

But  the  "ladies"  seeming  vague,  the  necessary 
introductions  were  made  and  the  motor  started  for 
Greenvale. 

Max  was  a  little  annoyed  that  Nora  Delane  was  in 
the  party,  as  he  was  sure  she  would  talk  throughout 
the  afternoon,  allowing  the  other  two  women  little 
chance  for  the  contemplation  of  Greenvale. 

Susan  perceived  at  once  that  he  was  displeased; 
and  she  also  realized  that  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
car,  Max  and  Delane  occupying  the  two  fold-up 
chairs  and  the  three  women  sitting  somewhat  closely 
together  in  the  broad  seat  at  the  back,  there  was 
something  distinctly  annoying  for  Florence  in  the 
near  relation  of  the  Delanes  to  herself  and  Max. 
It  was  not  that  Florence  did  not  try  to  talk  with 
Nora — this  being  slightly  difficult,  owing  to  the 
continuous  chatter  of  the  lady  in  question — but  the 


8o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

juxtaposition  of  Delane  and  Max  directly  in  front 
of  her  seemed  to  hold  a  significance  all  its  own.  Her 
brother,  firmly  made,  with  the  clear,  healthy  skin 
which  had  come  down  through  many  generations  of 
Kendalls;  Delane,  quite  as  strong  a  cut  of  a  man — 
in  fact  somewhat  bigger  in  a  purely  physical  way — 
but  with  a  certain  indeterminate  aspect,  an  irregular- 
ity of  side  face  in  spite  of  his  good  looks,  seemed  to 
stand  for  Florence  as  the  summing  up  of  the  two 
sides  of  life  from  which  each  had  come.  Why, 
being  as  strong  as  Delane  in  outward  aspect,  with 
the  added  advantage  of  refinement  and  culture, 
should  Max  not  be  as  powerful  as  the  other  man  in 
the  big  ways  of  life?  Why  had  it  been  necessary 
for  a  Kendall,  descended  straight  from  the  old  stock 
that  swayed  the  country  in  its  early  struggles,  to 
lean  now  for  support  both  financially  and  in  order 
to  make  a  success  of  his  own  life,  upon  this  rep- 
resentative of  the  new,  heterogeneous  America? 
Delane,  for  the  most  part,  sat  looking  straight 
ahead,  occasionally  turning  to  Susan  in  the  other 
corner  when  that  lady  addressed  him.  Susan  was 
able  thus  to  observe  him  carefully,  perhaps  more 
critically  to  "take  him'  in"  than  had  been  possible 
on  the  former  occasions  in  the  Kendall  drawing- 
room.  This  afternoon  Delane  appeared  to  be  re- 
markably preoccupied,  all  but  indifferent  to  Florence, 
who  was  sitting  just  behind  him.  Florence's  ex- 
treme quietness  may  have  been  the  cause  of  this, 
but  there  seemed  also  to  be  a  kind  of  timidity,  a 
self-consciousness  when  Mrs.  Wainwright  roused 


8i 

herself  to  some  casual  remark  about  the  country 
through  which  they  were  passing.  Delane's  short 
"Yes's"  and  "No's"  in  reply  were  in  distinct  contrast 
to  his  former  conversations,  when  he  had  seemed  tc 
be  almost  over-doing  his  efforts  to  please. 

While  the  car  was  rolling  along  through  an  ex- 
tremely densely  populated  section  of  the  suburbs, 
Susan's  remark,  "Houses,  houses  endlessly,  and  you 
would  build  more!"  caused  Delane  to  turn  to  her, 
laughing. 

When  Florence  asked  what  the  joke  was,  he  im- 
mediately returned  to  his  contemplation  of  the  land- 
scape and  half  shyly,  almost  like  a  child  that  has 
been  rebuked,  answered  that  he  supposed  there  was 
none.  Which  led  to  a  short  silence,  most  welcome 
after  Nora's  incessant  chatter;  but  it  did  not  last 
long  as  that  indefatigable  person  took  the  situation 
again  upon  her  shoulders  in  a  burst  of  anecdote 
about  Jim  at  home  and  his  pet  cat.  The  hearty 
Jim  pictured  with  a  pet  cat  upon  his  knee  was  too 
much  for  Susan,  who  laughed  heartily,  causing 
Delane  to  turn  in  his  embarrassment  to  Max  and 
plunge  into  a  lengthy  conversation  about  the  relative 
width  of  streets  and  the  best  sort  of  pavement. 

And  now,  in  a  vista  of  gasometers  and  low  squat- 
ters' houses,  Greenvale  appeared  on  the  horizon 
behind  the  proud  proclamation  of  its  name  done  in 
yellow  letters  on  a  pea-green  background,  the  whole 
signboard  looming  up  twenty  feet  above  the  ground 
as  a  welcome  bit  of  color  in  the  grayness  all  about. 
The  arrival  was  certainly  something  of  a  shock, 


82  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

made  in  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke  blowing  over 
from  a  near-by  factory.  But  Susan  said  nothing; 
she  merely  looked. 

"If  the  roads  aren't  too  bad,  John,"  Delane  said 
to  the  chauffeur  through  the  speaking  tube,  "take 
us  over  a  little  of  the  land.  You  can't  get  any  idea 
from  here  just  how  much  we  own,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  ladies.  "It  really  is  some  place." 

"  'Some'  quite  describes  it,"  Susan  said,  "as 
I  am  sure  no  adjective  of  a  more  definite  meaning 
would  hit  the  mark.  I  had  no  idea  it  was  quite  so 
dreary  as  this." 

"You  see  a  part  of  our  property  is  used  as  a  dump 
for  the  city  carts,  so  that  the  land  can  be  filled  in. 
It  is  marshy  in  places,"  Delane  replied,  trying  to 
find  an  adequate  apology  for  the  very  untidy  ap- 
pearance of  the  place. 

The  motor  bumped  along  a  newly  cut  road,  where 
at  intervals  sticks  in  the  ground  showed  where  the 
pavement  would  be.  One  or  two  of  the  streets  had 
been  named,  such  as  Myrtle  Avenue  and  Gardenia 
Terrace. 

"Surely,"  Susan  laughed,  "you  will  not  use  such 
names  throughout  the  place.  If  you  do,  it  is  an 
admission  on  your  part  that  you  intend  to  have 
gardens  and  a  bit  of  beauty;  although  I  have  my 
doubts  about  even  a  dandelion  thriving  here." 

This  was  good,  Max  thought,  and  might  lead 
Susan  to  a  properly  enthusiastic  view  of  the  sit- 
uation in  spite  of  its  present  uncouthness. 

"My  partner  here  has   never   approved   of   my 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  83 

names  for  the  streets,"  Delane  said.  "He  calls 
them  sentimental." 

"Comic,  rather,  I  should  say,"  Susan  went  on. 
"But  you  certainly  must  do  something  nice  for  the 
streets  with  the  fancy  names.  It  might  be  an 
interesting  experiment  to  see  if  the  houses  on  Myrtle 
Avenue,  where  perhaps  a  few  maples  could  be  per- 
suaded to  grow,  would  rent  more  quickly  than  the 
ones  on  East  First  Street,  for  example;  for  at  the 
present  moment  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  numbers 
by  which  to  designate  these  very  uncomfortable 
roads." 

"That  is  not  a  bad  idea  of  yours,  Miss  Anderton," 
Delane  said,  after  a-  pause.  "And  we  could  charge 
higher  rents  for  the  houses  on  the  streets  with  trees 
and  gardens,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"You  have  appealed  to  his  pocketbook,"  Florence 
exclaimed,  "and  he  will  surely  follow  your  lead." 

"In  your  signboard,"  Susan  said,  as  the  motor 
turned  again  into  the  main  road,  "you  show  another 
instance  of  trying  to  make  Greenvale  effective. 
There  must  be  lawns,  of  course,  if  you  allow  that 
very  green  sign  to  lure  people  to  this  district." 

There  was  something  quite  odd  in  the  manner  in 
which  Delane  seemed  agreeable  to  everything  that 
Susan  Anderton  said.  Almost  any  criticism  of 
Greenvale,  verging  as  it  did  this  afternoon  so  often 
on  the*  sarcastic,  made  its  effect  with  him.  But  in  his 
attitude  toward  Florence  there  was  still  something 
aloof;  it  was  almost  as  if  she  were  not  in  the  car. 

On  the  way  home  Nora  suggested  that  the  party 


84  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

stop  at  her  house  for  tea;  but  as  Florence  and  her 
friend  thought  they  had  had  about  as  much  of  that 
rather  too  effusive  young  woman  as  they  could  stand 
at  one  time,  excuses  were  made,  and  the  cheerful 
Nora  was  dropped  at  her  granite  front-door  steps 
as  casually  as  she  had  been  picked  up  there  several 
hours  before.  Max  and  Delane  were  to  proceed 
on  downtown  to  put  in  another  period  of  work  at 
their  office,  so  Susan  and  Florence  had  their  tea  alone 
upon  the  arrival  home. 

Susan  was  rather  tired,  but  her  mind  was  busy 
in  the  agitation  of  certain  things,  Greenvale  being 
not  the  most  important  of  them.  She  had  been  im- 
pressed this  afternoon  by  the  somewhat  strange 
manner  of  Delane  toward  Florence.  It  was  quite 
as  if  he  were  afraid  of  her.  Yet  Susan  knew  this 
was  really  not  the  case.  Florence  had  always  been 
too  nice,  too  simply  frank  for  him  to  suspect  or  feel 
anything  in  her  attitude  that  was  not  of  the  kindest 
motive.  There  is  another  kind  of  feeling  which  in 
its  early  stages  often  takes  on  the  appearance  of  a 
half-shy  fear.  Susan  remembered  rather  innocuous 
young  men  who,  later  professing  an  undying  de- 
votion to  her,  had  first  passed  through  these  stages 
which  are  so  typical  of  the  symptoms  of  incipient 
love.  It  would  be  curious  if  in  the  same  situation 
Delane,  the  man  of  affairs,  should  appear  in  this 
light.  But  then,  thought  Susan,  he  is  really  only 
a  boy  at  heart.  What  caused  her  wonder  as  she 
sipped  her  tea  was  something  quite  definitely  linked 
with  alarm.  Her  steady  gaze  at  Florence  for  a 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  85 

moment  made  that  lady  ask,   "Why  are  you  so 
serious,  dear,  all  of  a  sudden?" 

Susan  was  ready  with  her  answer.  "I  wonder 
if  you  terrify  Delane." 

"Terrify  him!"  Florence  exclaimed,  in  a  naturally 
surprised  tone. 

"I  mean  nothing  definite,  of  course,"  Susan  went 
on  qurckly;  "but  you  must  realize,  I  think,  that 
Delane  is  far  more  interested  in  me — far  more 
natural  with  me,  which  better  expresses  what  I 
mean — than  he  is  with  you."  She  paused  again, 
inspecting  the  bottom  of  her  teacup;  then  looking 
up  at  Florence,  said  rather  vaguely,  "I  was  just 
wondering,  that  is  all." 

Florence  laughed,  and  Susan  continued,  "But  you 
know  you  are  a  terribly  fine  person;  a  much  finer 
person  in  every  sense  of  the  word  than  I  am,  for 
instance." 

"How  absurd  you  are,"  her  companion  interposed. 

"Nevertheless  you  are;  and  I  am  sure  you  must 
know  what  I  am  trying  to  get  at.  You/  are  precieuse. 
It  is  impossible  that  you  should  not  be  so.  I  con- 
sider myself,  on  the  other  hand,  an  amalgamation 
of  all  sorts  of  things.  I  am  an  American  whom 
Europe  has  developed  amazingly,  taking  on  various 
colors  and  traditions  of  things.  That  is  why  I  am 
a  simpler  person  for  Delane  to  approach  than  you 
are,  although  in  reality  mine  is  a  far  more  com- 
plicated personality  than  yours;  or  than  yours  ever 
will  be, — which,  of  course  my  dear,  you  must  not 
take  as  a  disparagement  of  your  own  unmatchable 


86  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

qualities.  Would  that  I  had  them.  It  is  this  very 
contrast  in  our  types  which  we  must  consider,  which 
we  must  play  to  the  best  advantage." 

"  Tlay'  ?"  Florence  repeated. 

"Yes;  make  the  most  of,  if  that  is  clearer,"  Susan 
continued.  "Delane  is  an  impressionable  person. 
He  is  not  hard  with  the  perversity  of  tight  facts, — 
really  not  so  hard  as  Max  is.  But  his  horizon  is 
limited.  The  sky  is  not  lowering,  filled  with  heavy 
clouds ;  it  is  open  and  clear  and  ready  to  be  illumined 
with  splendid  colors.  However,  it  is  necessary  to 
a  proper  display  that  the  right  person  shall  furnish 
the  light." 

"By  which  you  mean  you  are  the  right  person  in 
this  particular  situation,"  Florence  said,  smiling, 
remembering  the  days  in  Paris  when  it  was  always 
Susan  who  seemed  to  be  exactly  the  right  person  in 
the  right  place  at  all  times. 

"I  am  perfectly  willing  that  you  should  take  Delane 
in  hand,"  Florence  went  on.  "I  have  my  duties,  as 
you  know.  I  cannot  allow  myself  to  become  ab- 
sorbed in  the  business  ventures  of  my  brother,  al- 
though I  have  talked  to  him  most  seriously  about 
Green  vale.  Since  seeing  the  place,  I  feel  quite 
incapable  of  visions." 

"There  you  are,"  Susan  said  quickly,  hitting  the 
mark  she  wanted.  "You  and  Max  are  alike.  You 
are  too  nice  to  see  beyond  the  dusty  vistas  of  bad 
roads.  But  I  believe  Delane  can  see,  or  rather,  will 
be  made  to  see  beyond  the  present  ugly  realities,  if 
he  is  properly  awakened." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  87 

"I  give  you  full  leave,"  Florence  said  gayly. 

Susan  looked  at  her  again  intently  for  a  moment. 
Perhaps  the  "full  leave"  would  be  a  thing  of  vaster 
proportions  than  the  delicate  Florence  in  her  soft 
blue  gown  realized  at  the  time.  She  appealed  then 
so  strongly  to  Susan  as  a  person  completely  detached, 
aloof  from  every  connection,  even  when  the  con- 
nection should  be  one  of  sentiment  or  affection,  that 
it  terrified  her.  The  danger  of  something  that 
should  strike  this  aloofness,  this  cool  attitude  toward 
life,  was  what  had  impressed  Susan  very  forcibly 
just  now.  If  she  were  given  full  leave,  then  she 
might  do  something  big,  something  rather  better 
than  bringing  flowers  out  of  the  wilderness.  The 
afternoon  had  been  very  full  of  impressions  for 
Susan ;  but  nothing  was  so  strong  as  the  realization 
of  what  Delane's  so-called  moodiness  really  meant, 
and  what  would  happen  if  the  remoteness  of  Flor- 
ence's personality  should  suddenly  be  swung  into 
the  range  of  a  desperately  intense  character,  belong- 
ing quite  to  that  other  side  of  life  to  which  Max 
Kendall  already  was  allied. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"Increase  of  wages  will  not  solve  the  problem; 
social  education  is  a  duty  no  one  must  shirk.  .  .  . 
The  tendencies  of  the  age  are  toward  extravagance. 
...  In  a  hundred  and  fiftyt-seven  cases  which  we 
investigated  in  New  York  in  the  factory  of  the 
Ritteres  and  White  Company  we  found  the  girls 
spending  four  fifths  of  their  wages  upon  clothes. 
What  can  one  expect  then?  These  girls  must  eat, 
live,  and  usually  help  support  a  family.  ...  If 
they  fall,  are  not  the  tendencies  of  the  age  quite  as 
much  to  blame  as  the  wage  scale?  .  .  .  Education, 
a  social  conscience.  ..." 

Mrs.  Williamson  Sterret  of  Philadelphia  was 
talking  before  a  special  meeting  of  certain  workers 
from  the  Trumbull  Square  house — what  might  be 
called  the  Back  Bay  contingent — at  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Oglesby  Watterson.  She  had  been  especially  asked 
to  come  over  from  her  beautiful  country  place  in  the 
suburbs  of  Philadelphia  to  speak  this  afternoon. 
She  was  looked  upon  as  something  of  an  authority 
in  matters  relating  to  the  great  social  evil  which  a 
few  years  ago  caused  such  a  zealous  investigation 
throughout  the  country.  Mrs.  Williamson  Sterret 
was  becomingly  gowned  in  a  dress  of  the  latest  mode. 
Her  jaunty  purple  hat  and  ropes  of  pearls  about  her 
neck,  taken  in  combination  with  the  fact  that  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  89 

dear  lady  was  most  apparently  rouged  and  powdered, 
produced  a  rather  curious  effect  when  she  made  her 
various  pronouncements  concerning  the  extravagance 
of  the  working  girl. 

The  audience  was  composed  entirely  of  women, 
who  in  their  smart  afternoon  frocks  appeared  to 
have  just  dropped  in  on  their  way  to  tea  or  a  bridge 
party.  There  was  an  odeur  de  societe  in  the  closely 
packed  room  that  suggested  some  luxurious  affair 
of  one  sort  or  another  distinctly  in  contrast  to  the 
usual  stuffy  committee-meeting  smell.  Florence 
Wainwright  was  in  the  crowd.  Although  this  spec- 
ial branch  of  sociological  work  was  something  to 
which  she  had  given  little  attention,  yet  she  had  been 
attracted  to  this  "talk"  on  account  of  the  episode  with 
Gracie  Linton.  She  wondered  if  Mrs.  Williamson 
Sterret  had  looked  deep  enough  into  the  subject  to 
find  the  root  of  all  the  mischief  as  she  felt  she  saw 
it  vaguely  in  her  own  mind. 

"They  must  not  only  be  paid  such  wages  as  will 
enable  them  to  live  decently,  but  they  must  be  taught 
how  to  use  those  wages.  .  .  .  The  constant  attempt 
to  be  like  the  people  above  them  in  the  social  scale 
is  most  pernicious.  It  is  difficult  nowadays  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  classes,  because  the  working 
girl  dresses  so  well  and  really  wears  her  clothes  like 
a  lady.".  .  .  Mrs.  Williamson  Sterret  was  droning 
on  in  the  same  humdrum  voice,  unemotionally, 
coldly,  clutching  a  multitude  of  facts  neatly  written 
in  a  little  pigskin  notebook  with  gold  corners.  .  .  . 
"We  may  claim  nothing — society  can  demand  noth- 


90  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ing  from  the  uneducated  girl  who  sells  herself  to  get 
a  frock  in  order  that  she  may  cut  the  same  figure  as 
her  neighbor.  .  .  .  During  a  recent  strike  of  stitch- 
ers in  a  shirt-waist  factory,  every  girl  wore  a  fur 
coat  when  she  marched  down  the  street  to  make  a 
demonstration  for  higher  wages.  Although  her 
body  was  warm,  her  stomach  was  undoubtedly  empty 
and  her  soul  lost.".  .  .  Mrs.  Sterret  had  allowed 
herself  to  soar  a  bit  into  the  heights  of  eloquence. 
She  stopped  to  take  a  sip  of  ice  water  from  the  en- 
graved glass  tumbler  at  her  side  while  her  remarks 
sank  into  the  minds  of  her  listeners. 

Then  came  lists  of  factories,  wages  paid,  and 
figures  showing  the  percentage  of  girls  who  had 
fallen  into  the  ways  of  sin.  Statistics  seem  always 
so  useful,  such  a  bulwark  for  the  righteous  of  this 
world  to  fall  back  upon  when  they  are  combating  the 
social  evils  of  life. 

Florence  was  listening  intently,  but  through  all 
the  droning  there  was  not  a  single  thought  that 
struck  her  vitally.  A  Gracie  Linton — many  Gracie 
Lintons — hovering  in  the  background  of  the 
speaker's  heavily  embroidered  dress,  meant  more 
to  her  than  a-11  that  was  being  said.  She  was  won- 
dering, too,  if  Gracie  Linton  had  ever  worked  in  a 
factory  or  shop.  She  was  wondering  if  Gracie  had 
neglected  her  stomach  in  order  to  clothe  herself  in 
a  smart  frock,  and  then  as  a  last  resort —  No ;  she 
did  not  think  so.  Of  course,  she  had  her  own  the- 
ory. She  would  like  to  hear  the  speaker  from  Phil- 
adelphia explode  it,  or  show  her  that  she  was  work- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  91 

ing  on  a  false  hypothesis;  for  certainly  Florence's 
idea  held  in  it  less  of  credit  to  humanity  than  the 
one  usually  worked  upon  in  such  matters. 

"We  have  reached  the  high-water  mark  of  salaries 
and  wages.  To  demand  more  will  lead  to  a  more 
wholesale  closing  down  of  great  mercantile  establish- 
ments than  we  have  yet  seen.  .  .  .  We  must  face 
the  problem  of  unemployment  after  a  period  of 
thoughtless  waste  in  the  manner  of  living.  The  girl 
out  of  work  is  a  more  likely  victim  to  the  great  evil 
of  which  I  am  speaking.  .  .  ."  (It  will  be  noted 
that  Mrs.  Sterret  never  mentioned  this  evil  by  any 
definite  name.  It  was  for  her  a  great  abstract 
horror  which  she  must  face  in  her  efforts  to  find  its 
solution.)  "The  girl  who  has  been  able  to  keep 
straight  will  fall  as  her  sisters  have  done,  and  all  our 
endeavors  must  be  toward  giving  her  a  suitable 
environment  and  educating  her  in  the  ways  of  life 
to  keep  her  above  and  beyond  the  abyss  of  sin." 

Mrs.  Sterret  paused.  Evidently  she  had  made  a 
great  point.  There  was  more  droning;  a  report 
was  read  from  a  clergyman  in  West  Philadelphia; 
also  a  letter  from  the  head  of  an  industrial  school 
for  women,  and  Mrs.  Williamson  Sterret  announced 
that  as  she  was  taking  the  "five  o'clock"  to  New 
York,  she  must  close  her  remarks.  A  thin,  elderly 
woman  went  forward  and  shook  hands  with  her; 
and  in  a  buzz  and  chatter  there  was  a  general  move- 
ment toward  the  distinguished  guest  of  the  after- 
noon. 

But  Florence  remained  sitting  in  the  back  part  of 


92  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  room,  rather  lost  in  the  confusion.  A  chauffeur, 
carrying  a  fur  coat,  appeared  in  the  hallway  and 
asked  if  Mrs.  Brownson  Brown  was  there;  and  two 
vacant-faced  youths  with  notebooks  emerged  from  a 
doorway  where  they  evidently  had  concealed  them- 
selves to  write  up  the  lecture ;  but  just  why  this  meet- 
ing had  been  open  only  to  women  was  more  than 
Florence  could  understand.  Certainly  the  innocuous 
character  of  the  talk  would  have  done  credit  to  a 
mothers'  conference  at  which  babies  and  the  proper 
training  of  the  infant  mind  were  under  discussion. 
Perhaps  if  Mrs.  Williamson  Sterret  had  not  had 
a  train  to  catch,  she  would  have  revealed  things 
quite  too  shocking  for  the  ears  of  a  mixed  company. 
While  Florence  was  wondering — wondering  about 
many  things ;  seeing  very  little  of  her  surroundings, 
filled  as  she  was  with  the  vision  of  a  foul-smelling 
restaurant  where  pale-faced  waitresses  served  pain- 
ted girls  and  where  rather  stupid-looking  men 
sat  lounging — the  doors  were  thrown  open  into 
another  room  in  which  tea  appeared  laid  out  in  an 
immaculate  array  of  silver  and  china  under  the 
soft  pink  light  of  tall  candelabra.  The  afternoon 
at  Umber's  was  still  quite  vivid  to  her.  How  little 
real  viciousness  there  seemed  to  be  in  it  all;  only 
hopeless  degradation.  Here  in  this  scented  drawing- 
room,  among  these  rather  stout  and  mostly  wholly 
unintelligent-looking  women,  there  was  for  her  a 
feeling  of  a  more  actual  viciousness  than  in  the  other 
picture.  Was  not  the  remedy,  the  panacea  for  the 
whole  thing,  something  rather  simple?  Was  it  not 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  93 

merely  that  the  remedy  had  always  been  applied 
at  the  wrong  end  ?  It  would  be  interesting  to  know. 
She  could  not  drink  tea.  She  went  out  unobserved, 
and  calling  a  taxi,  jumped  in  and  drove  to  the  South 
End.  She  was  going  to  see  Gracie  Linton. 

The  address  Gracie  gave  her  had  reposed  in  her 
pocketbook  ever  since  the  encounter  with  the  girl  at 
Umber's.  The  house  was  not  difficult  to  find,  and 
Florence  dismissed  the  cab  at  the  corner  and  walked 
down  the  almost  deserted  street,  at  the  end  of  which 
two  negroes  were  engaged  in  an  altercation  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  The  bell  jangled  noisily,  and 
presently  a  bedraggled-looking  woman  in  a  dirty 
shawl  and  apparently  little  else  peeped  out  of  the 
door,  which  she  opened  only  a  crack. 

"Does  Miss  Linton  live  here?"  Florence  asked. 

"Miss  who?"  almost  screamed  the  person  inside, 
who  might  veritably  have  been  the  renowned  Witch 
of  Endor  returned  to  earth  to  preside  over  this 
particular  part  of  town. 

"Miss  Gracie  Linton,"  Florence  repeated. 

"Oh,  Gracie!"  and  immediately  the  door  swung 
open. 

"I  won't  come  in,"  Florence  hurriedly  added, 
catching  the  vista  of  a  very  dark  hallway  and  a  dirty 
child  playing  on  the  floor. 

"She's  probably  just  on  her  way  out,"  the  woman 
explained,  her  face  transforming  itself  into  a  horrid 
grin. 

"Will  you  tell  her  a  lady  would  like  to  see  her 
for  a  moment." 


94  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

At  which  the  keeper  of  the  door  cackled  noisily, 
then  turning  around,  exclaimed,  "Here  she  be  now." 

Gracie  came  out  quickly  to  where  Florence  was, 
at  first  looking  at  her  curiously  and  then  smiling. 
"Well,  of  all  things,  this  beats  the  devil!"  she  said. 

"How  are  you?"  Florence  replied. 

"Fine,  and  how's  yourself?"  Gracie  was  ready 
in  response. 

"If  you  are  going  out,  I  will  walk  along  a  bit  with 
you,"  Florence  went  on. 

"That's  all  right,  I  ain't  going  anywhere  in  par- 
ticular." 

A  promenade  through  the  South  End  with  Gracie 
Linton  was  not  quite  Mrs.  Wainwright's  idea,  but 
the  possibility  of  a  quiet  chat  with  her  in  some 
restaurant  or  dairy  lunch  remote  in  character  from 
the  celebrated  Umber's.  This  sort  of  place  was 
soon  found;  and  Gracie  and  Florence  were  sitting 
opposite  each  other  at  a  small  table  in  a  corner. 
Florence  ordered  a  pot  of  tea  and  Gracie  said  she 
would  have  a  cup  of  black  coffee,  and  the  occasion 
seemed  conducive  to  a  good  talk. 

Then  came  a  moment  when  Florence  was  at  a 
loss  how  to  begin.  There  was  one  thing  she 
wanted  to  find  out.  How  would  she  go  about  it? 

"By  the  way,"  she  finally  said ;  "you  know  meeting 
you  the  other  night  at  that  restaurant  was  quite  odd." 

"Not  half  as  odd  as  it  was  to  see  you  there," 
Gracie  replied  good-naturedly. 

"I  think  we  were  both  surprised,"  Florence  went 
on.  Then  after  a  pause,  "Do  you  go  there  often?" 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  95 

"Every  blessed  night  of  my  life,"  was  the  quick 
response. 

Then  there  was  another  pause,  in  which  Gracie 
looked  first  at  her  coffee,  then  at  Mrs.  Wainwright. 
At  last  she  said,  "I  guess  you  don't  'get  me.' ' 

Florence  knew  what  she  meant,  and  to  stop  further 
beating  about  the  bush,  said  as  charmingly  as  she 
was  able,  "Of  course  I  do.  I  have  been  a  great 
deal  in  this  part  of  the  city.  I  may  not  have  seen 
you  until  the  other  day,  but  I  have  run  into  a  great 
many  girls  like  you  on  the  streets ;  and  that  is  why  I 
am  here  to-night, — to  ask  you  one  question,  which  I 
hope  you  will  answer  quite  seriously." 

"Fire  away,  dearie,"  Gracie  replied,  assuming 
for  the  moment  her  other  manner  of  the  Umber 
Cafe  variety;  in  fact,  her  usual  attitude  toward 
people,  which  had  fallen  from  her  somewhat  when 
she  first  met  Florence. 

"I  want  to  know  if  you  do  any  work  in  the 
daytime." 

Gracie  laughed  heartily  at  this.  For  a  moment 
it  seemed  that  she  would  have  difficulty  in  stopping. 

"Well,  you  are  a  f  reshy,"  she  finally  said.  "What 
do  you  know  about  that?  Me  work!"  And  again 
she  went  off  into  peals  of  laughter. 

"I  just  wondered,"  Florence  added. 

"I  ain't  done  a  day's  work  for  years,"  Gracie 
said,  with  some  vehemence.  "Why  should  I  work? 
Don't  I  get  my  dough  all  right,  and  much  easier 
than  I  would  sweating  my  life  out  in  a  factory  for 
some  fat  calf  of  a  bloater?  Ain't  I  well  dressed?" 


96  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

And  she  jauntily  tipped  her  hat  to  one  side, — a  new 
hat,  by  the  way,  and  rather  pretty  and  suited  to  her. 

"I  suppose  you  never  have  had  any  regular  work," 
Florence  pursued,  bound  not  to  be  discouraged  by 
these  outbreaks. 

"Look  here,"  Gracie  began,  evidently  touched  on 
a  tender  spot,  "what  damn  business  is  it  of  yours 
if  I  ever  worked  or  not?  Have  I  asked  you  if  you 
work  ?  You  know  well  enough  what  I  do,  although 
I  am  not  in  the  back  part  of  the  telephone  book 
among  the  painless  dentists  and  beauty  doctors." 

The  situation  was  becoming  embarrassing. 
Several  people  had  come  into  the  lunch  room,  and 
Gracie' s  voice  was  by  no  means  low. 

"I  only  meant  to  be  kind  to  you,"  Florence  said, 
making  a  new  effort.  "If  you  like  the  sort  of  life 
you  lead,  I  suppose  it  is  all  right,  so  far  as  you  are 
concerned.  I  only  wondered  if  you  had  ever 
known  any  different  life — had  ever  lived  in  any 
place  but  this,  or  would  like  to  get  away  from  this 
neighborhood  for  a  time." 

"It  ain't  a  farm  you're  talking  about?"  Gracie 
asked,  in  a  more  friendly  tone  of  voice. 

"No,  not  a  farm, — nothing  definite  as  yet." 

"God  deliver  me  from  farms!"  Gracie  ejaculated. 
"I  was  born  on  one  of  them." 

"Really?" 

"Yes,  really;  and  if  you  want  to  bury  yourself 
underground  and  eat  worms  for  your  daily  food, 
go  and  live  on  a  farm.  It's  that  awful." 

The  subject  seemed  closed,  and  Gracie  looked  at 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  97 

a  small  silver  watch  which  she  took  ou,t  of  her  purse. 

"Guess  I  must  be  hiking  along,  dearie,"  she  said, 
again  smiling.  "I  hear  Umber's  calling  me,"  she 
sang  to  the  tune  of  a  popular  song. 

The  two  women  emerged  upon  the  dimly  lighted 
street.  Grade's  face  looked  very  white  in  the  glare 
from  the  restaurant  window.  She  was  going  down 
the  street;  Florence,  the  other  way.  They  said 
good-night,  Gracie  adding,  by  way  of  good  manners, 
"Hope  I  see  you  again,  old  pal." 

"I  am  sure  you  will,"  Florence  replied  quite 
seriously. 

She  realized  that  she  had  made  absolutely  no 
effect  upon  Gracie.  It  was  as  though  the  two 
women  had  not  met.  Yet  Gracie  was  kind.  She 
had  proved  it  that  night  at  Umber's  when  Florence 
was  feeling  ill.  "There  must  be  some  loophole, 
some  chink  or  cranny,"  thought  Florence,  "by  which 
I  may  some  time  approach  her."  She  was  dis- 
couraged by  this  first  attempt,  but  she  would  not 
allow  herself  to  be  faint-hearted  and  give  up  the 
matter  now.  If  only  a  group  of  these  Gracie 
Lintons  could  be  sent  away — to  Greenvale  perhaps, 
when  that  place  should  be  built — to  live  or  board 
in  some  decent  manner,  what  might  not  happen? 
It  was  an  interesting  vision.  Florence  would  like 
to  make  her  work  something  personal  to  herself; 
would  like  to  undertake  some  scheme  for  the  better- 
ment of  these  girls  with  a  bit  more  of  humanity 
in  it  than  the  routine  of  the  industrial  homes 
offered.  She  would  see  to  it  that  they  were  amused, 


98  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

always  diverted;  and  she  would  see  to  it  that  they 
worked  without  feeling  that  they  were  slaves  of 
mere  drudgery.  She  came  back  to  her  old  theory 
that  it  was  the  absence  of  congenial  work — it  was 
the  lack  of  impulse  to  work — that  fills  our  streets 
with  the  women  of  this  class.  Their  minds  ran 
in  but  one  channel,  to  but  one  thing;  and  they  plied 
their  trade,  not  because  they  must  eke  out  a  living 
and  clothe  themselves  up  to  the  latest  fashion,  but 
because  they  did  not  choose  to  live  in  any  other  way. 
The  overworked  girl  of  the  factory,  the  shop  girl, 
completely  fagged  at  the  end  of  the  day,  could 
not  be  at  the  seat  and  root  of  the  whole  matter 
in  the  same  degree  as  these  professed  prostitutes 
were.  In  other  words,  most  of  the  girls  of  this 
latter  group  were  not  former  factory  employees 
or  underpaid  clerks,  and  had  little  relation  to  the 
great  industrial  question;  but  were  what  they  were 
because  they  did  not  wish  to  be  anything  else.  The 
key  to  the  situation  lay  in  the  psychological  matter 
of  the  girl's  tendencies,  and  not  in  the  demand  for 
a  higher  wage. 

However  trying  had  been  Florence's  interview 
with  Gracie,  she  was  glad  she  had  seen  her.  It 
gave  her  a  firmer  grasp  on  things.  The  droning 
of  the  afternoon  in  the  Back  Bay  drawing-room 
had  been  rather  confusing,  distinctly  depressing. 
Now  she  saw  more  clearly  along  certain  lines.  It 
was  the  tendency  that  must  be  changed, — always 
the  tendency.  The  "back  of  people's  minds" 
must  be  different  before  the  great  millenium  could 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  99 

arrive.  On  the  way  home  what  she  had  to  do 
seemed  well-defined,  but  all  that  she  had  been  doing 
appeared  rather  futile. 

She  arrived  home  to  hurry  into  evening  dress 
and  go  with  Max  to  a  dinner  and  dance  at  a  country 
club  some  miles  out  of  town.  Susan  had  left  a  note 
saying  that  she  was  off  to  pick  up  her  friend,  Mr. 
Rothwell,  and  bring  him  out  to  the  dance.  Who 
Rothwell  was  or  from  where  he  had  appeared  on  the 
scene  Florence  was  at  a  loss  to  know.  She  never 
had  heard  of  him  before.  Of  course  there  were 
numbers  of  Susan's  European  friends  that  she 
never  had  seen  or  heard  of,  but  it  struck  her  as 
slightly  curious  that  this  person  whom  Susan  would 
unexpectedly  take  out  to  a  dance  had  never  been 
mentioned.  Possibly  his  name  had  popped  up  in 
some  of  Susan's  conversations,  but  Florence  could 
not  recall  it  at  the  moment.  Very  likely  he  is  a 
recent  acquisition — perhaps  vaguely  known  on  the 
"other  side" — to  whom  Susan  must  show  hospital- 
ity now  that  he  has  appeared  in  this  country,  thought 
Florence,  as  she  sat  beside  her  brother  in  the  car 
that  was  taking  them  out  to  the  club. 

The  club  had  that  confused,  heated,  and  somewhat 
restless  aspect  which  is  so  typical  of  the  country-club 
life  of  America.  As  Florence  and  Max  came  in, 
a  number  of  people  they  knew  were  coming  down 
the  stairs  into  the  main  hallway.  They  stopped  to 
chat  a  moment,  and  a  florid-faced  man  with  a 
gardenia  in  his  buttonhole  took  Max's  arm  and 
murmured  in  a  confidential  manner  something  about 


ioo  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

drinks.  Max,  beaming,  departed  with  the  red- faced 
one.  Three  very  young  men,  arm  in  arm  and 
slightly  buoyed  up  for  the  evening  by  numerous 
cocktails  they  had  just  mixed  in  an  upstairs  room, 
sauntered  into  the  living  room  and  proceeded  to  the 
piano,  where  one  of  them  began  to  play  "jazz" 
music  in  a  confused  manner, — the  proper  style  for 
jazz  which  is  intoxicated  ragtime. 

But  Florence  could  not  find  Susan.  She  was 
not  in  the  ladies'  dressing  room  and  apparently 
had  not  arrived.  Miss  Anderton  had  a  two-weeks 
guest  privilege  at  the  club  and  would  be  able  to 
look  after  herself  when  she  came  in;  but  Florence 
was  eager  to  meet  the  mysterious  Rothwell.  Several 
young  girls  in  extremely  low-cut  gowns  brushed 
past  her,  and  she  overheard  one  of  them  say,  "I  bet 
you  he  does  before  the  evening's  through" ;  and 
they  went  out  into  the  hall  to  hang  over  the  balus- 
trade and  talk  and  laugh  with  two  youths  who  were 
awaiting  them.  Florence  remembered  hersel  f  at  the 
debutante  age,  in  her  heavy  satin  dress  with  its 
discreet  square-cut  neck;  and  as  she  looked  at  the 
long  expanse  of  back  displayed  by  these  girls,  she 
thought  how  modern  evening  dress  went  up  and 
down  almost  to  the  vanishing  point,  as  the  dances 
became  ever  more  intimate  and  a  gentleman's  shirt 
stud  could  leave  an  imprint  on  an  unromantic  bosom. 
There  was  a  strong  odor  of  perfume.  Some  one 
was  singing  in  the  room  below,  and  there  was  the 
noise  of  chairs  and  tables  being  moved.  She  went 
downstairs. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  101 

Susan  and  her  friend  had  just  arrived,  and  the 
gentleman  was  being  introduced  to  Max.  Florence 
joined  the  little  group  and  Mr.  Hubert  Rothwell 
was  presented.  He  was  tall  and  erect,  his  head  and 
features  being  of  the  same  clear  straightness  as  the 
rest  of  him.  A  rather  high  forehead  and  sensitive 
nose  in  combination  with  a  slight  hollowness  of 
cheek  gave  him  essentially  the  character  of  the 
Englishman  of  the  upper  class :  university  bred,  but 
showing  so  unmistakably  that  finer  and  longer 
breeding  which,  taking  itself  quite  casually,  denotes 
its  special  kind  of  background.  Perhaps  in  a 
certain  over- refinement  of  the  mouth  appeared  the 
only  weakness  in  the  type.  His  hair  was  dark  and 
his  eyes  charmingly  boyish  in  their  frank,  clear 
look. 

All  this  Florence  quite  readily  realized.  It  was 
the  sort  of  impression  easily  received,  correctly 
catalogued  for  what  it  meant.  She  knew  the  type; 
knew  what  to  expect  of  it,  where  to  meet  it.  It  was 
the  kind  of  thing,  too,  that  one  appreciates  and 
sees  more  clearly  out  of  its  native  environment 
than  in  it.  The  contrast  to  certain  things  American 
added  always  for  Florence  a  special  charm  to  the 
Englishman  seen  out  of  his  own  country. 

Susan,  who  looked  very  happy  to-night  perhaps 
on  account  of  her  friend's  appearance,  was  explain- 
ing how  Mr.  Rothwell  had  just  arrived  in  Boston, 
after  landing  that  day  from  one  of  the  few  steamers 
that  still  considered  the  old  New  England  port  a 
possible  point  of  debarkation. 


102  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"You  will  see  us  to-night  then  at  our  best," 
Florence  said. 

"Or  worst,"  Max  put  in. 

"But  all  this  is  so  typical,"  Florence  went  on. 

"Yes,"  Susan  laughed,  "your  country  club  is 
young  America  rampant." 

The  crowd  was  floating  into  the  dining  room, 
where  the  various  groups  of  friends  were  sitting 
down  at  small  tables.  There  was  a  din  of  voices, 
shrill  and  laughing.  Every  one  seemed  to  be  laugh- 
ing in  spite  of  the  meagerness  of  anything  like 
conversation. 

"I  have  always  heard  that  in  this  country  you 
like  to  do  things  in  crowds,"  Rothwell  said,  looking 
about  the  room. 

"Yes;  that  is  why  the  country-club  idea  is  so 
popular,"  Florence  replied.  "There  is  no  club  life 
in  a  place  of  this  sort  as  an  Englishman  would 
understand  it.  It  is  more  like  a  cabaret." 

"But  I  had  some  very  good  Scotch  upstairs,  which 
is  certainly  a  friendly  note."  After  a  moment 
Rothwell  asked,  "And  do  you  have  these  dances 
often?" 

"About  once  a  month.  To-night  is  a  special 
occasion;  a  celebrated  'jazz'  band  is  over  from  New 
York.  I  seldom  come  out  here  and  practically  never 
dance  since  my  .husband's:  death;  but  it  is  un- 
fortunate to  get  in  a  rut,  isn't  it,  and  I  feel  some- 
times that  I  am  doing  that  by  absorbing  myself  too 
much  in  my  work." 

That  the  very  lovely  Mrs.  Wainwright  in  a  pale, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  103 

rose-colored  dress,  smiling  across  to  Rothwell, 
should  ever  get  in  a  rut  or  talk  about  her  work 
like  a  tired  business  man  was  not  only  surprising 
to  him,  but  distinctly  out  of  the  picture  when  he 
compared  her  to  some  of  the  English  beauties  he 
knew  who,  although  splendid  in  the  war,  had  been 
only  too  ready  to  drift  back  into  the  old  routine  of 
bridge,  hunting,  and  society. 

Susan  saw  his  perplexity  and  chimed  in  with  a 
cheerful,  "Oh  yes,  every  one  works  out  here,  even  if 
it  is  only  in  an  amateur  way,  like  Mrs.  Wainwright." 

"You  mean  you  have  a  hobby?"  Rothwell  said. 
"I  am  sure  we  all  have  that,  although  I  do  not  know 
just  what  mine  is  at  the  present  moment." 

"Pursuing  me  across  the  Atlantic  perhaps,"  Susan 
laughed. 

Florence  wondered  if  it  were  possible  that  this 
young  Englishman  were  in  love  with  Susan.  She 
knew  her  friend  had  always  evaded  matrimony, 
and  as  she  never  talked  of  any  particular  man  friend 
more  often  than  the  rest,  it  seemed  very  unlikely 
that  there  was  any  connection  between  the  two 
bordering  upon  the  romantic.  Florence  did  not 
know  why  she  hoped  this  was  the  situation;  but 
she  liked  Mr.  Rothwell  very  much  in  these  first  few 
moments  of  conversation  with  him.  Besides,  she 
could  not  fancy  Miss  Anderton  married  to  anybody. 

The  dinner  proceeded  rapidly  and  Florence  was 
unable  to  find  out  anything  which  would  place 
Rothwell  more  clearly  in  her  mind.  She  must 
wait  until  later,  when  she  could  get  Susan  alone. 


104  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

She  was  not  an  idly  curious  person,  but  the  tone 
of  easy  familiarity  between  her  friend  and  this 
new  acquaintance  was  certainly  interesting.  The 
bantering  sort  of  remark  that  passed  between  them, 
such  as  Susan's,  "You  should  have  told  that  to 
Molly  at  Cowes,"  denoted  very  clearly  the  relation 
that  existed  here.  They  called  each  other  by  their 
first  names  and  seemed  to  take  one  another  for 
granted,  quite  as  if  they  had  been  meeting  every 
day.  But  why,  in  such  a  case,  had  Susan  never 
mentioned  her  friend?  In  the  evenings  of  quiet 
talk  since  Susan  came  to  Marlborough  Street  she 
had  said  a  great  deal  about  her  affairs  past  and 
present,  but  never  a  word  of  Roth  well,  so  far  as 
Florence  could  recollect. 

The  dance  was  under  way.  Florence,  declining 
Rothwell's  invitation  to  dance,  saw  him  take  the 
floor  with  Susan.  He  danced  superbly,  and 
Florence  decided  she  would  not  decline  his  next 
offer.  He  was  not  at  all  like  Jack  in  physique,  but 
he  had  a  certain  refinement  and  ease  which  was 
very  suggestive  of  her  husband  and  which  caused 
her  to  look  twice  as  he  passed  by.  Two  very  pretty 
girls  came  over  to  her  and  asked  who  the  very 
good-looking  chap  was,  and  she  promised  to  intro- 
duce him.  A  slightly  intoxicated  youth,  one  of  the 
trio  who  had  been  at  the  piano  earlier  in  the  evening, 
appeared  and  "shimmied"  off  with  one  of  the  girls. 
Then  Florence  found  herself  dancing  with  Rothwell. 
It  was  a  waltz,  the  only  thing  she  cared  to  do. 
She  had  never  been  very  keen  about  the  new  steps, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  105 

and  now  that  she  danced  so  seldom,  she  felt  comfort- 
able only  when  waltzing  or  doing  a  foxtrot  without 
variations.  The  trouble  had  always  been,  she 
thought,  that  there  were  so  many  variations  and 
subtleties  in  every  new  dance  that  you  either  had  to 
do  them  all,  or  none  at  all.  She  had  chosen  the 
latter  course. 

"I  hope  you  will  like  Boston,"  Florence  said, 
"that  is,  if  you  are  to  be  here  any  length  of  time." 

"I  believe  all  Englishmen  like  Boston  and  Phila- 
delphia," Rothwell  answered.  "Of  course  I  have 
not  seen  New  York  yet." 

"It  was  delightful  that  Susan  could  bring  you  out 
here  to-night." 

"Susan  is  wonderful;  equal  to  every  situation." 

"There  are  so  many  different  kinds  of  situations," 
Florence  replied  rather  dryly. 

"You  mean  big  ones  and  little  ones." 

"Yes,  something  of  the  sort,"  Florence  went  on. 
"That  Susan  is  equal  to  the  big  ones,  I  know  very 
well.  She  is  extraordinary.  You  see,  we  have  been 
friends  for  years  and  years,  which  of  course  means, 
doesn't  it,  that  we  have  encountered  all  kinds  of  situ- 
ations together." 

"And  perhaps  I  am  the  latest,"  Rothwell  added. 

Florence  looked  at  him,  smiling.  He  was  still 
something  of  a  mystery. 

"Perhaps,"  was  all  she  said. 

"And  you  wonder  if  she  is  equal  to  the  present 
situation?" 

"'Not  at  all ;  for  I  am  not  sure  there  is  one,  yet." 


106  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

The  "yet"  of  Florence  perhaps  led  Rothwell's 
mind  to  things  a  little  more  intricate  than  he  had 
foreseen  in  the  possibilities  of  the  conversation.  He 
remained  silent. 

I  DON'T  GIVE  A  DAMN  IF  I  GO  HANG BANG  BANG, 

ZING  BANG,  WHIZ  !  the  music  seemed  to  say. 

They  were  sitting  down,  and  Susan  came  along 
with  Max. 

"This  is  really  a  delightful  surprise,"  Florence 
said. 

"You  mean  Hubert?"  Susan  asked  quite  in- 
nocently. 

"Yes,"  Florence  continued;  "but  more  especially 
the  fact  of  your  having  produced  here  in  this  some- 
what prosaic  town  one  of  your  delightful  little  epi- 
sodes." 

"How  could  I  help  it?"  Susan  laughed.  "The 
gentleman  descended  upon  me.  Besides,  there  is  no 
episode." 

"Of  course  not,"  Florence  said  in  reply.  "But 
you  must  admit  it  is  in  the  nature  of  one  to  have  you 
produce  from  nowhere,  without  even  a  word  of  intro- 
ductory explanation,  this  charming  friend  of  yours." 

Rothwell  and  Kendall  were  talking  together  and 
did  not  hear  this  last  passage. 

"Life  without  footnotes  is  delightful,  though," 
/  Susan  answered. 

GIVE IT UP,    GIVE IT UP,    ZIP,    ZIP,    BANG 

the   drums    screamed.     The   music   was   becoming 
more  riotous.     Everything,  due  to  the  fact  that  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  107 

orchestra  had  had  several  drinks,  was  getting  nois- 
ier and  madder  than  ever. 

Susan  danced  again  with  Rothwell,  and  Max  with 
his  sister.  A  certain  group  of  very  young  people 
were  indulging  in  a  perfect  orgy  of  "shimmying," 
and  one  young  man,  having  reached  the  state  when 
things  in  general  were  going  around,  took  the  safe 
course  of  remaining  absolutely  in  one  place  himself 
and  moved  slowly  back  and  forth  with  his  partner  in 
a  very  close  embrace. 

Florence  wondered  if  Rothwell  noticed  it.  They 
were  sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  room  as  far  away  from 
the  music  as  they  could  get. 

"You  see  our  wickedness  is  all  on  the  surface,"  she 
said,  as  her  companion  watched  the  more  hilarious 
nembers  of  the  crowd. 

"Quite,"  he  said.  "It  is  all  very  youthful,  isn't 
it?" 

Florence  was  not  at  all  sure  that  one  could  dismiss 
the  scene  in  such  a  general  way;  at  least  for  herself 
it  could  not  be  done.  She  had  a  dim  vision  of  the 
subdued  groups  of  men  and  women  at  Umber's  Cafe. 
Those  people  had  been  subdued  by  the  law.  Here 
there  were  plenty  of  high  lights  to  show  that  a  large 
area  of  dryness  only  meant  that  the  wetness  was  con- 
centrated upon  a  select  few  who  were  drinking  more 
than  they  ever  had  done  in  the  old  days.  And  such 
very  young  boys  and  girls.  It  was  rather  perplex- 
ing. Perhaps,  thought  Florence,  the  only  uplift  that 
needs  to  be  done  now  is  among  the  people  of  my  own 


io8  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

class.  The  slums  had  been  reformed,  even  if  man- 
kind as  a  whole  were  very  little  better  for  it. 

"I  hope  you  are  to  be  in  Boston  for  a  time,"  Max 
said  to  Rothwell,  as  he  sat  down  next  to  him. 

"It  is  a  bit  indefinite,"  Rothwell  answered.  "I 
have  matters  to  look  over  here.  I  can't  tell  just  how 
long  this  will  mean  for  me." 

Susan  had  been  watching  him  closely.  Florence 
wondered  if  Rothwell's  appearance  in  America  was 
quite  as  sudden  and  unexpected  to  Susan  as  it  was 
for  her.  Perhaps  she  would  be  able  to  learn  very 
little  from  her  friend  concerning  this  person  and  his 
plans. 

"Of  course  my  stay  is  .quite  for  some  time,"  Susan 
interposed.  "My  lawyer  in  New  York  writes  that 
my  uncle's  affairs  cannot  possibly  be  settled  for  a 
year." 

Was  this  meant  to  place  something  definitely  for 
Rothwell?  Florence  would  like  to  know.  Very 
likely  the  unexpectedness  of  his  arrival  upon  the 
scene  made  it  necessary  in  some  way  for  Susan  to 
disclose  as  much  as  possible  of  her  plans  without 
seeming  to  say  too  much. 

Suddenly  Miss  Anderton  said,  "You  must  meet 
Mr.  Kendall's  associate  in  the  land  venture  I  spoke 
of." 

Florence  could  not  see  why  Delane  should  be 
dragged  into  this  evening  which  was  so  completely 
out  of  the  scope  of  anything  connected  with  the 
Delanes  and  their  interests. 

But  Susan  went  on,  undeterred  by  the  somewhat 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  109 

surprised  look  which  Florence  gave  her.     "He  would 
amuse  you." 

"Jim  Delane  is  a  fine  fellow,"  Max  asserted. 
"You  must  lunch  with  me  some  day  at  my  club,  and 
I  will  have  Delane  there." 

"Excellent,"  Rothwell  answered,  with  that  note  of 
light  enthusiasm  in  his  voice  so  typical  of  his  class. 

Delane,  as  no  more  than  a  name  just  now  casually 
mentioned,  could  mean  very  little  for  him;  but  his 
"excellent"  contained  so  much  of  the  sense  that  he 
was  agreeable  to  any  plan  that  might  be  made  for 
him  that  Florence  looked  at  him,  smiling  in  dis- 
tinct approval  at  seeing  his  manner  quite  what  she 
knew  it  would  be.  Rothwell  caught  the  look  and 
smiled  back,  really  only  getting  in  her  glance  the 
sense  of  her  pleasure  in  the  situation  and  little  seeing 
the  deeper  pleasure  in  himself  that  was  behind  it. 
Susan  also  saw  the  "look,"  the  special  look  of 
Florence,  and  into  it  she  read  something  else.  She 
thought  she  saw  a  gleam  in  Florence's  eyes  which  re- 
called the  old  Paris  days  and  which  she  had  missed 
in  the  present  environment.  It  made  her  catch  her 
breath. 

She  turned  to  Rothwell  and  asked  him  something 
about  his  trunks,  over  which  there  evidently  was  a 
difficulty. 

"I  am  sure  to  get  them  to-morrow,"  he  answered. 

"Will  you  dine  with  us  next  Thursday,  Mr.  Roth- 
well ?"  Florence  said. 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,  and  thank  you  so 
much." 


i  io  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

BANG WHIZ ZIPITY — ZIP — I   DON'T   GIVE  A   RIP 

— the  music  was  blazing  forth  again,  endlessly  rest- 
less, infinitely  noisy. 

There  was  another  dance ;  and  our  little  group  of 
friends  started  home.  When  Florence  and  Susan 
were  getting  their  wraps,  they  encountered  some 
very  breezy  youths  on  the  stairs. 

"We'll  take  the  noise  sharks  back  in  my  car,"  one 
of  them  was  saying,  referring  to  the  orchestra  who 
now,  after  more  drinks  and  wilder  playing,  would 
certainly  have  to  be  taken  back  in  some  one's  car. 

"Fine!  Where  is  Dolly  Saltus?"  another  boy 
said,  and  proceeded  to  stumble  and  slip  down  sev- 
eral stairs. 

"Mind  your  step,  iBifly,"  someone  shouted. 
"You  aren't  flying  now,  you  know." 

When  Florence  and  Susan  were  alone  after  they 
got  home  that  night,  Florence  plunged  at  once  into 
the  mystery  of  Rothwell's  sudden  appearance. 

"You  see,  I  have  known  him  for  several  years," 
Susan  replied  to  her  friend's  inquiries.  "I  used  to 
meet  him  at  Cowes  when  I  paid  my  annual  visit  in 
August  to  Molly  Wethersly.  Hubert  was  always 
at  Molly's.  He  is  such  a  nice  fellow.  I  hope  you 
like  him." 

"I  do  like  him  very  much,"  Florence  said  quietly. 
"But  how  did  Mr.  Rothwell  know  you  were  here?" 

"Oh,  I  had  written  to  him,"  Susan  answered, 
apparently  a  little  impatient  at  her  friend's  curiosity. 

"You  never  spoke  about  him  to  me,"  Florence 
continued. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  in 

"If  I  talked  about  every  one  I  know,  you  would  be 
bored  to  death." 

So  far  Mrs  Wainwright  had  not  learned  much. 
A  casual  acquaintance  met  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  dur- 
ing the  yachting  season  was  how  Susan  had  pre- 
sented this  friend :  yet  casual  acquaintances  did  not 
announce  themselves  by  wireless  and  were  not  hus- 
tled off  to  parties  on  the  night  of  their  arrival. 

"It  is  delightful  that  he  is  to  be  here  for  a  time," 
Florence  remarked. 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  And  there  was  something  in  Su- 
san's tone  which  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  the  discus- 
sion of  the  gentleman  in  question.  It  still  seemed 
as  if  some  mystery  hung  over  him;  as  if  there  were 
something  about  Rothwell  which  Susan  chose  to 
keep  especially  to  herself. 

"He  forms  a  pleasant  link  with  your  life  on  the 
other  side,"  Florence  said  after  a  moment,  not  wish- 
ing to  drop  the  subject 

"As  though  you  didn't  do  that,  my  dear,  more  dis- 
tinctly than  he  ever  could." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  Florence  said  lightly. 
"But  then,  I  am  not  of  the  picture  any  more.  I  am 
essentially  American." 

"Hardly  that,  but  Bostonian  certainly." 

"By  the  way,  I  have  found  an  apartment,"  Susan 
went  on.  "It  is  an  adorable  little  place  in  the  West 
End,  near  the  river.  I  know  I  am  going  to  love  it." 

"You  mean  we  are  to  lose  you?"  Florence  said, 
really  sorry  at  the  thought  of  her  friend's  departure. 

"Yes,  you  are  to  lose  so  much  of  me;  but  my 


ii2  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

morning  walks  along  the  embankment  will  always 
end  here.  You  see  I  am  sub-renting.  The  place  is 
charmingly  furnished.  When  I  am  settled,  we  must 
have  a  housewarming,  and  I  shall  give  a  dinner  party 
for  you  and  Max,  Hubert,  and  Delane." 

"Delane — really?"  Florence  said,  a  little  surprised. 

"Yes ;  I  shall  include  Delane,  although  I  draw  the 
line  at  sister  Nora." 

"But,"  Florence  interposed ;  "do  you  think  it  nec- 
essary?" 

"Nothing  is  ever  necessary,"  Susan  answered 
quickly.  "I  loathe  necessary  things.  But  it  will 
be  amusing." 


CHAPTER  VII 

Florence's  dinner  party  had  been  rather  slighter 
in  its  success  than  she  had  anticipated.  It  was  one 
of  those  evenings  when  a  "hitch"  of  some  sort  oc- 
curs, and  there  seems  to  be  a  blight  on  the  pro- 
ceedings. On  that  particular  night  there  had  been 
no  definite  moment  when  things  went  wrong — no 
traceable  lack  of  sympathy  among  the  guests — but 
things  were  not  smooth,  not  tuned  up  to  concert  pitch 
as  Florence  wished  them  to  be.  As  she  thought 
back  about  it,  she  could  not  say  what  had  happened 
to  cause  the  drop  in  the  atmosphere.  She  had  tried 
to  make  the  evening  something  of  a  formal  introduc- 
tion of  Rothwell  to  a  few  of  her  friends.  Besides 
Constance  Floyd,  she  had  asked  two  students  from 
Harvard  who  bore  names  well-known  in  New  York 
society.  These,  she  hoped,  might  be  able  to  do 
something  for  Rothwell  when  he  should  make  his 
appearance  in  the  metropolis.  Also,  there  was  Miss 
Grainger,  a  charming  young  Boston  girl  who  had 
just  made  her  debut  and  was  to  dance  in  the  annual 
performance  of  the  "Knitting  Bee,"  a  club  of  young 
women  not  to  belong  to  which  denotes  something 
wrong  in  the  social  status  of  the  debutante. 
Thus  the  party  consisted  of  eight,  with  Susan  and 
Rothwell  and  Max.  Certainly  these  people  were 
well  chosen  to  entertain  one  another.  Nothing  was 


114  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

lacking  in  the  scheme  of  the  thing.  However,  there 
had  been  the  failure  to  attain  anything  more  than 
a  certain  dead  level  of  the  conventional  dinner  party. 
Perhaps  Florence  had  reckoned  too  well;  had  too 
consciously  chosen  her  guests  with  the  effect  of  a 
special  appearance  in  view.  Or  it  may  have  been 
that  Roth  well  had  seemed  to  retreat  into  himself  up- 
on receiving  the  rather  too  effusive  greeting  of  Miss 
Floyd  and  her  apparent  effort  to  make  herself  liked 
by  him — Constance  always  outdid  herself  for  Eng- 
lishmen— in  contrast  to  a  certain  coldness  she 
showed  toward  Susan.  Susan,  moreover,  had  been 
a  little  less  entertaining  than  usual.  She  appeared 
that  night  more  in  the  manner  of  an  observer,  of 
some  one  looking  on  at  things  rather  than  of  them. 
What  she  particularly  "looked  on"  at  was 
Florence's  growing  interest  in  Rothwell ;  her  absorp- 
tion in  him  at  dinner,  and  the  way  she  managed  to  se- 
cure quiet  moments  of  conversation  with  him  later  in 
the  evening.  But  in  these  slight  passages  Susan 
could  detect  nothing  in  his  attitude  that  showed  any 
special  interest  which  Florence  held  for  him.  He 
was  wholly  charming  throughout  the  affair,  appear- 
ing quite  as  absorbed  in  the  merry  chatter  of  the 
debutante  and  the  more  serious  attempts  of  Miss 
Floyd  to  hold  his  attention  as  he  was  later  when  sit- 
ting with  Florence  in  a  corner.  All  of  which  was 
quite  as  it  should  be.  In  Florence  there  was  notice- 
able again  the  olU  brilliancy  of  manner,  her  former 
happy  self  peeping  out  at  odd  moments  in  chance  re- 
marks. It  recalled  Paris  days.  Her  gown,  too, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  115 

something  a  bit  more  arranged  for  a  definite  effect, 
was  noted  by  Susan. 

After  the  evening  was  over  she  realized  the  "hitch'' 
quite  as  Florence  had.  Perhaps  she  had  not  made 
the  proper  effort  to  swing  things  along  in  her  cus- 
tomary way.  Telephoning  Florence  the  next  morn- 
ing, she  told  her  how  charming  the  party  was;  but 
in  her  friend's  tone  she  detected  a  feeling  that  things 
might  have  been  better. 

"I  hope,"  Florence  said,  "that  Mr.  Rothwell  had 
a  good  time." 

"I  am  sure  he  did,"  Susan  answered  readily. 

"I  fear  our  Harvard  boys  were  too  young  for  us," 
Florence  resumed. 

"You  should  never  think  that,  my  dear,"  Susan 
laughed  back.  "Youth  is  better  than  champagne." 

Susan's  party  was  different.  From  the  moment 
Delane  appeared  with  the  news  that  the  franchise  for 
the  railway  to  Greenvale  had  been  granted,  things 
went  along  merrily.  Max  made  delectable  cocktails ; 
and  Delane,  after  drinking  a  number  of  them,  talked 
most  enthusiastically  of  the  way  business  would  go 
forward  now  that  the  great  obstacle  was  overcome. 

"Crofton  was  wonderful,"  he  explained.  "I  was 
in  the  House  all  the  morning,  and  when  the  matter 
hung  by  a  thread — a  certain  group  of  old  fogies  be- 
ing dead  against  us — Crofton  swung  everything  to 
our  side  by  securing  the  vote  of  his  crowd.  And  let 
me  tell  you,  it  is  a  great  crowd.  When  those  men, 
McClancy  and  Knight  and  Foley,  go  out  for  a  thing, 
they  get  it.  Max,  old  boy,"  slapping  his  partner  on 


n6  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  back,  "this  is  going  to  be  a  great  night.  Green- 
vale  is  born.  Before  it  was  only  conceived ;  but  now 
it  is  born.  It  is  here !  Our  houses  are  not  built ;  our 
streets  are  still  mud  ruts,  but  the  spring  will  see  it  all 
changed.  Lawson  and  Hobbes  telephoned  me  an 
hour  ago  to  get  the  rights  to  the  corner  piece  on 
the  eastern  boundary.  They  want  a  long  lease  and 
will  build  at  once.  Here's  to  Greenvale;  may  she 
boom  and  boom,  and  then  s.ome!" 

Susan  was  amused  and  exhilarated  by  the  gusto 
of  Delane,  and  she  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing 
whole-heartedly. 

"Bravo!"  she  exclaimed.  "To  Jim  Delane  and 
Max  Kendall,  the  land  boomers.  May  they  live 
long  and  see  a  multitude  of  babies  born  in  the  great 
suburb." 

Max  was  beaming;  and  Rothwell,  standing  apart, 
laughed  heartily  at  Susan's  peroration.  But  to 
Florence  it  was  a  little  overdone.  She  loathed  the 
lack  of  sensitiveness  in  the  man  in  his  loud  ac- 
clamation of  his  success.  To  her  it  was  not  funny, 
and  she  knew  Rothwell's  amusement  arose  from 
the  oddity  of  the  situation.  He  was  discovering 
for  himself  the  great  American  "I  am."  He  was 
seeing  in  the  flesh  one  of  the  great  American  ad- 
venturers and  getting  infinite  enjoyment  out  of  it 
all. 

"You  mustn't  count  your  birds  before  they  are 
hatched,"  she  said,  not  wishing  to  appear  too 
definitely  out  of  the  picture. 

"But  my  dear  Mrs.  Wainwright,"  Delane  began 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  117 

again ;  "it  is  sure,  sure  as  you  are  standing  there,  that 
we  have  a  great  thing  in  Greenvale.  Our  agents 
are  selling  lots  as  fast  as  pancakes,  and  we  are  to 
build  a  lot  of  apartment  houses — even  have  the  pros- 
pect of  getting  a  school  put  up  there.  All  these 
things  were  only  waiting  till  we  should  get  the  elec- 
tric cars  through  to  our  property.  Well,  we  have  got 
'em.  You  can  hear  now  the  conductors  on  them 
shouting,  'Next  stop,  Greenvale.' ' 

"And  see  a  lot  of  ugly  women  with  Boston  bags 
getting  out  of  the  cars,"  Susan  interrupted. 

"You're  a  magician,  Delane,"  Rothwell  said. 

"Yes;  that's  what  I  am,"  Delane  replied,  smiling 
at  Rothwell,  whom  he  was  beginning  to  like. 
"That's  what  Kendall  and  I  are.  We're  magicians. 
We're  'canny,'  you  see;  and  the  'canny'  people  always 
get  there." 

"And  now  for  dinner,"  Susan  said,  as  the  servant 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  "My  table  decorations 
are  green  and  yellow.  You  see  everything  is  going 
to  be  in  honor  of  Greenvale." 

This  apartment  that  Miss  Anderton  had  rented 
furnished  belonged  to  a  man  of  somewhat  large 
experience  in  the  really  fine  things  of  life.  It  was 
particularly  well  suited  to  her  individuality  and  in 
the  decorations  of  the  dining-room  there  was  a 
warmth  of  color  and  richness  in  objects  of  excellent 
style  and  design  which  splendidly  set  off  Susan's 
personality.  Two  Chinese  punch  bowls  on  a  Jaco- 
bean side  table  between  massive  bronze  candelabra, 
and  the  cupboard  of  royal  red  crockery  were  among 


n8  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  distinctive  articles  of  this  setting ;  while  the  heavy 
design  of  the  wall  paper  in  deep  blues  and  gold 
furnished  a  most  excellent  background.  The  group 
at  the  table  with  masses  of  yellow  roses  in  the  center 
— their  green  leaves  making  the  scheme  just  noted 
by  Susan — was  remarkably  intense  in  its  individual 
traits ;  while  the  laughter  and  chatter  was  carelessly 
informal.  It  was  all  in  decided  contrast  to  the 
atmosphere  of  Florence's  party  on  the  previous 
Thursday. 

Florence  felt  this  as  she  sat  there,  a  little  self- 
conscious  of  her  mood,  which  made  it  difficult  for 
her  to  fall  into  the  general  merrymaking  of  the 
evening.  It  was  not  that  she  did  not  wish  to,  but 
the  highest  key  she  could  strike  would  probably  fall 
short  of  Susan's  more  happily  attained  notes. 
Susan  was  always  expansive,  and  it  was  really  only 
at-  such  times  as  this  that  her  expansiveness  did  not 
stand  out  beyond  the  particular  scene.  She  was 
completely  herself  to-night, — the  tone  which  the 
evening  had  taken  since  Delane's  flourish  being 
wholly  in  her  vein. 

In  addition  to  the  hostess's  ample  provision  for 
the  dinner  in  the  matter  of  food,  Delane,  after  hear- 
ing the  result  of  the  franchise,  had  brought  from 
home  several  bottles  of  gin.  Max  had  been  able 
to  produte  some  of  his  dearly  bought  Scotch,  and 
all  this  added  to  the  merriment.  Rothwell  felt  that 
he  was  having  the  best  time  since  his  arrival  in 
America.  Delane  talked  a  good(deal;  but,  sitting 
at  Susan's  right,  was  easily  managed  by  that  lady 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  119 

not  to  talk  too  much  or  over-indulge  in  his  own 
special  topic  of  the  night,  which  of  course  was  land 
and  railways.  He  seemed  to  be  developing  a  social 
perspective  which  made  him  fit  into  the  scene  more 
naturally  than  he  had  done  on  the  former  occasions 
when  Florence  had  had  opportunities  of  observation. 
Or  was  it,  she  wondered,  merely  because  the  at- 
mosphere now  was  more  like  the  one  to  which  he 
was  accustomed  in  his  own  small  experience  of 
such  things? 

"And  now,  Mr.  Delane,"  Susan  was  saying,  "in 
the  first  flush  of  your  success  I  am  sure  you  will 
promise  that  I  may  have  tulips  and  a  cottage  and 
live  in  Gardenia  Terrace." 

"Anything,  everything  you  like,"  he  answered, 
laughing.  "You  may  transport  all  the  fine  things 
you  left  in  Europe  and  set  yourself  up  as  the  great 
lady  of  the  place." 

"You  know  I  am  going  to  bespeak  a  flat  out 
there,"  Florence  broke  in,  "with  which  I  can  do  as 
I  please." 

"That  sounds  naughty,"  Kendall  said. 

"I  may  make  it  a  home  for  poor  girls  where  they 
can  go  for  a  bit  of  air  and  sunshine,"  Florence 
went  on. 

"First  rate!"  Rothwell  exclaimed,  turning  to 
Florence.  "It's  an  excellent  idea.  You  must  tell 
me  about  it  some  day." 

Susan  was  quick  to  notice  Florence's  pleasure  in 
this;  and  working  on  an  idea  that  at  this  moment 
sprung  fully  formed  into  her  head,  she  said,  "Yes ; 


120  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

it  will  be  capital  for  you,  Hubert,  to  become  in- 
terested in  Mrs.  Wainwright's  pet  scheme  for  the 
development  of  her  brother's  property." 

The  thing  that  had  popped  into  Susan's  head  so 
suddenly  was  to  take  a  more  definite  form  later  in 
the  evening  when  Max  was  presiding  at  the  Victrola 
to  give  Miss  Anderton  and  Delane  an  opportunity 
to  "foxtrot"  in  a  cleared  space  of  the  apartment; 
Florence  and  Roth  well  were  left  to  themselves  on 
the  window  seat  in  a  little  alcove  which  looked  out 
over  the  river,  with  its  straight  rows  of  lights  like 
diamonds  on  long  chains  engirdling  the  city.  They 
talked  there  quietly,  each  half -turned  to  the  brilliant 
expanse  beneath  them,  glittering  with  a  myriad 
jewels  like  fine  thoughts  crystallized,  reflecting  the 
tone  of  the  city  that  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  waters. 
Rothwell's  high  forehead  and  straight  nose  carried 
out  the  effect  of  a  fineness  quite  above  the  ordinary; 
and  as  he  sat  slightly  turned  toward  Florence,  who 
was  leaning  back  against  the  heavy  blue  hangings 
that  framed  this  picture,  there  was  pronouncedly  the 
note  of  an  intimate  relation;  of  something,  up  to 
now  casual,  taking  a  definite  form  of  understanding. 

"It  has  an  intellectual  beauty,"  and  "Even  the 
houses  in  this  district  seem  not  to  have  been  built, 
but  to  have  grown,"  were  chance  remarks  which 
Susan  overheard  as  she  passed  by  to  the  tune  of 
the  latest  ragtime.  Florence  and  her  companion 
were  talking  of  Boston,  and  Susan  realized  the 
ready  response  of  Hubert  to  Florence's  appreciation 
of  the  city.  So  her  idea  grew. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  121 

Here  lay  a  possible  solution  of  what  had  been 
so  long  for  her  a  difficult  problem.     From  the  time 
of  meeting  Rothwell  in  England  at  the  house  of  a 
friend,  there  had  been  a  mad  infatuation  on  his  part. 
Susan  at  first  had  seen  it  in  the  light  of  many  other 
experiences  of  the  kind  when  young  men — and  by 
that  we  do  not  infer  the  too  young  man,  but  in  the 
neighborhood    of    thirty,    which    happened    to    De 
Rothwell's  age — had  paid  their  marked  devotions  to 
her,    fascinated   by   her  worldliness  and  the   easy 
accessibility  of  a  rather  masculine  point  of  view; 
all  of  which  had  passed  off  as  soon  as  she  had 
removed     herself     to     other     environments.     But 
Rothwell  had  literally  pursued  her,  first  by  letters 
in  which  he  warmly  expressed  his  attitude  and  the 
chasm  which  her  departure  had  caused  in  his  life. 
Then  by  a  flying  trip  to  Paris  in  the  autumn,  when 
she  had  ensconced  herself  again  in  her  old  quarters. 
Here  there  had  been  no  getting  away  from  the  fact 
that  he  was  in  love  with  her.     He  was  useful  at 
that  particular  time  as  an  escort  to  various  enter- 
tainments  of   one  sort   or   another  and   was   im- 
mediately liked  by  her  friends;  as  he  always  was 
liked  everywhere,  in  circles  of  the  most  varying  char- 
acter.    He  possessed  the  chameleon-like  personality 
which  dangerously  takes  on  too  easily  the  color  of 
widely  divergent  types. 

Susan  through  it  all — for  Rothwell  stayed  on  in 
Paris  until  December — had  been  untouched  by  any- 
thing approaching  a  real  affection  for  the  man,  or, 
as  he  seemed  to  her,  the  boy.  She  liked  him  im- 


122  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

mensely,  but  never  having  been  in  love  and  loathing 
the  idea  of  marriage,  it  was  rather  late  for  her 
to  succumb  to  the  grand  passion.  She  knew,  more- 
over, that  his  feeling  for  her  was  purely  a  mental 
one.  She  always  had  appealed  to  a  certain  type 
of  sensitive  man  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
intellect.  If  Hubert  would  but  analyze  his  attitude, 
she  believed  firmly  it  would  prove  to  be  distinctly 
removed  from  anything  sentimental,  and  she  told 
him  so  when  he  finally  declared  himself  on  the  eve 
of  his  departure  to  London.  She  talked  simply 
and  to  the  mark,  but  nothing  would  convince  him. 
Her  statement  that  he  had  confused  his  heart  and  his 
head  brought  only  ironic  laughter  from  the  young 
man;  and  he  vowed  that  he  would  persist  until  he 
made  her  understand,  made  her  love  him  as  he  loved 
her.  She  was  distressed  by  the  final  scene  and  hoped 
the  winter  would  present  in  his  path  some  charming 
girl  admirably  adapted  to  him.  This  had  all  hap- 
pened the  last  year  of  the  war,  as  Roth  well  had 
been  invalided  home  with  a  bad  heart.  Then  the 
next  summer  came  around — the  first  summer  after 
the  Armistice — and  in  August  Susan  was  at  Molly 
Wethersly's.  Much  as.  she  enjoyed  Rothwell,  in- 
tensely as  she  liked  being  with  him,  she  almost  wished 
he  would  not  make  his  appearance  at  Cowes.  He 
was,  in  fact,  delayed,  but  arrived  in  time  to  have 
three  glorious  days  of  sailing  on  the  Solent  with 
Susan  preeminent  in  the  party.  He  was  more  as- 
sured than  ever  of  his  undying  devotion  and  made 
Susan  promise  that  she  would  write  to  him. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  123 

Later  came  the  news  from  America  that  her  uncle 
had  died  and  that  her  already  copious  fortune  was 
to  be  enlarged  by  a  most  substantial  bequest.  In 
the  trail  of  this  came  the  tidings  that  her  presence 
was  required  in  New  York,  owing  to  the  efforts  of 
other  relatives  to  break  the  will  on  some  ground  of 
unsound  m\ind, — this  really  reducing  itself  to  a 
certain  disrepute  which  Susan  held  in  the  family 
owing  to  her  European  proclivities.  But  there  was 
no  evading  the  necessity  of  her  immediate  appear- 
ance in  New  York.  Moreover,  it  worked  well  into 
the  situation  that  she  should  leave  Paris  for  a  time, 
as  she  never  knew  .when  Rothwell  might  descend  up- 
on her  from  London.  Certainly  New  York  was 
more  remote  from  such  chances;  so  the  good  lady 
packed  herself  off. 

However,  the  unexpected  had  happened;  and 
Rothwell  was  in  America.  Before  his  arrival  there 
had  been  an  interchange  of  letters  at  rather  regular 
intervals  and  Susan  had  duly  announced  her  resi- 
dence with  old  friends  in  Boston.  She  had  written 
to  him  regularly  with  a  purpose,  for  she  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  sorry  for  the  youth  who  held  the  pos- 
sibilities of  a  life-long  devotion  to  her.  She  had 
seen  too  much  and  been  under  the  grind  of  too  many 
events  not  to  realize  the  value  of  such  faith.  She 
must  accept  it  for  all  it  was  worth ;  and  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  intervening  seas,  she  thought  she 
committed  no  breach  of  her  established  attitude  by 
being  as  kind  to  Rothwell  as  was  possible.  His 
wireless  message  which  announced  his  arrival  in 


124  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Boston  had  amazed  her  to  the  point  of  being  for  the 
moment  swept  off  her  feet.  Of  course,  under  the 
exigencies  of  the  situation,  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  go  on  being  kind  to  him  and,  as  Hubert  would 
interpret  it,  being  kinder  and  kinder. 

Up  to  this  evening,  however,  there  had  been  no 
passage  between  the  two  such  as  had  occurred  in 
Paris.  Susan  was  resolved  to  keep  Hubert  now  and 
forever  on  the  easy  footing  of  a  friend.  She  knew 
it  would  be  hard,  but  if  he  would  not  come  to  see 
these  terms  as  the  only  possible  ones  of  their  relation 
to  each  other,  she  must  definitely  give  him  up  even 
as  a  friend, — however  difficult  it  might  be  to  make 
him  comprehend.  To-night,  as  she  watched  Flor- 
ence with  him,  she  conceived  how  easy  it  would  be  to 
bring  this  new  situation  to  her  aid  in  solving  her 
problem,  if  he  would  only  take  a  sufficient  interest 
in  her  friend.  She  had  known  from  the  moment 
she  noted  the  "look"  in  Florence's  eyes  when  she 
met  Rothwell  that  Florence  was  falling  in  love  with 
him.  All  her  mood  of  the  past  fortnight,  in  its 
animation  and  a  certain  new  lightness  of  spirit, 
confirmed  Susan  in  her  first  impression.  How 
wonderful  it  would  be,  thought  Susan,  if  Hubert 
in  his  turn  should  fall  in  love  with  Florence.  She 
believed  herself  capable  of  achieving  a  good  deal 
toward  this  end.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost; 
and  stopping  breathless  before  the  group  in  the 
window,  she  said  it  was  their  turn  to  "take  the  floor," 
there  being  floor  really  for  only  one  couple  at  a  time. 

Rothwell  arose  as  Susan  crossed  over  to  Delane, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  125 

who  had  taken  possession  of  the  talking  machine. 

"Put  on  a  waltz,"  she  said. 

Without    a    word    Florence   rose   as    the   music 
started.     By  some  happy  chance  it  was  the  "Fleder- 
maus,"  a  waltz  she  particularly  loved.     She  stood 
a  moment,  looking  at  Rothwell  and  smiling;  and 
then   went   swinging  off   with   him.     He   danced 
divinely.     Suddenly  she  seemed  to  feel  that  she  was 
not  herself;  that  is,  not  the  person  she  had  known 
herself  to  be  the  past  few  years.     It  was  as  though 
her  later  experiences  had  dropped  from  her  and 
she  was  as  she  used  to  be,  carelessly  free  of  life  in 
any  of  its  larger  moods.     In  the  room  filled  with 
the   more   or   less   ornate   trappings   of   Europe — 
brocades,  altarpieces,  dim,  shaded  lamps,  and  lux- 
urious color  of  soft  hangings — she  got  the  impres- 
sion of  being  in  some  other  land,  some  place  filled 
with  the  memories  of  things  which  she  had  long 
considered  lost  to  her  forever.     For  the  time  she 
seemed  to  forget  all  that  had  happened  since  her 
old  dancing  days.    All  the  changes  she  had  been 
through  vanished,  and  she  was  filled  only  with  the 
sense  of  this  tall,  straight  man  before  her,  who  held 
her  so  firmly  and  guided  her  so  easily  around  the 
various  obstacles  of  chairs  and  tables.     The  close 
contact  with  him  made  her  glow  with  a  certain  ex- 
hilaration.    He  said  nothing;  but  when  the  music 
stopped,  he  requested  that  the  record  be  played  again, 
and  Florence  was  caught  up  in  that  merry  whirl  of 
melody  which  corresponded  so  wonderfully  to  her 
own  enjoyment  of  the  thing. 


126  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Then  there  was  another  dance.  The  table  in  the 
dining  room  was  moved,  and  Susan  and  Max  took 
possession  of  the  floor  in  there.  Delane,  as  man- 
ipulator of  the  music,  stood  intent  on  his  business, 
scarcely  taking  his  eyes  from  the  perusal  of  records 
and  the  changing  of  needles  in  the  machine.  He 
was  very  serious,  occasionally  glancing  up  at  Flor- 
ence as  she  and  her  partner  passed  near  him.  His 
face  had  an  odd  expression;  but  Florence,  although 
she  could  not  help  noticing  it,  little  realized  any 
distinct  meaning  which  it  held.  Susan,  from  the 
other  room,  was  able  to  look  out  upon  Delane  and 
saw  at  once  that  he  had  been  long  enough  out  of 
the  picture.  His  mood  and  manner  denoted  for 
her  his  displeasure  in  something. 

"Come,  Delane,"  she  said,  moving  into  the  larger 
room,  "you  must  dance  again.  I  will  not  vouch 
for  you  as  Mrs.  Wainwright's  next  partner,  for  you 
really  dance  abominably," — Delane  knew  he  did  and 
laughed, — "but  you  will  do  for  me." 

However,  there  had  been  enough  dancing.  Some 
one  suggested  a  pause  for  liquid  refreshment. 
This  agreed  admirably  with  the  desire  of  the  little 
group.  The  last  bottle  of  gin  was  opened,  and 
Susan  procured  ginger  ale  and  sandwiches. 

"Do  you  know,"  Delane  began,  "that  we  ought 
to  have  these  little  parties  regularly.  We  could 
meet  around  at  our  different  houses  but  always 
keep  to  the  same  crowd.  Just  us  five,  you  see." 

Florence  loathed  the  idea  the  moment  she  heard 
of  "meeting  around."  All  in  the  best  suburban  man- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  127 

ner,  she  thought.  Who  would  send  a  broadside 
into  this  new  scheme?  She  did  not  like  to,  as  it 
was  hardly  her  affair  at  all.  Surely  Susan  would 
come  to  the  rescue  in  her  best  style. 

"Don't  you  think,  though,"  iSusan  replied  to 
Delane's  suggestion,  "that  this  sort  of  thing  is  better 
done  casually  and  when  the  spirit  moves  than  by 
any  arrangement  of  definite  meetings?" 

"Probably,"  Delane  said,  apparently  convinced 
that  anything  Susan  might  say  would  be  right. 

After  the  dance  with  Rothwell,  Florence  was 
quite  ready  to  go  home.  She  was  filled  with  the 
sense  of  things  happily  managed  if  only  she  should 
not  be  submitted  to  more  of  Delane's  companionship. 
It  appeared  to  her  suddenly  that  she  must — that  it 
was  her  duty — to  take  Rothwell  in  hand  and  place 
him  more  securely  in  the  proper  Boston  set  than 
would  be  possible  if  he  should  stick  fast  to  this  small, 
but  for  him,  amusing  circle  of  Susan's.  He  was 
such  a  splendid  type ;  Florence  liked  him  so  much  that 
she  felt  it  would  be  a  loss,  not  only  to  the  gentleman 
himself  but  to  certain  charming  people  he  might 
meet,  if  he  were  allowed  to  complete  his  sojurn  in  the 
city  without  knowing  her  particular  friends.  This 
was  uppermost  in  her  mind  as  she  said  goodnight 
and  started  home  with  her  brother.  Delane  and 
Rothwell  went  off  together  up  Beacon  Hill. 

Susan  waved  them  all  good-by  from  the  top  of  the 
stairway  outside  her  door ;  and  then,  retreating  to  her 
snug  little  sitting  room,  she  looked  out  over  the  river 
to  the  confused  twinkling  of  the  lights.  Much  was 


128  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ahead  of  her  to  do;  but  the  happy  relationship  which 
seemed  to  have  sprung  up  between  Florence  and 
Rothwell  was  not  so  perplexing  to  her  as  what  might 
lie  in  the  heavy  expression  of  Delane's  face  as  he 
stood,  manipulator  of  the  music,  while  her  two 
friends  danced.  Could  she  so  manage  it  that  he 
would  be  manipulator  of  the  music  to  the  end;  or 
would  he  too  wish  to  dance? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

During  the  Christmas  season  Florence  saw  a  good 
deal  of  Hubert.  They  went  together  on  a  number 
of  shopping  excursions,  although  the  absurdly  high 
price  of  things  and  their  wretched  quality  made  the 
giving  of  Christmas  presents,  as  Florence  remarked, 
rather  a  stupid  performance  for  a  person  of  taste. 
Picking  up  one  day  in  a  shop  an  imitation  woolen 
scarf  marked  $14.50,  she  said,  "Only  an  idiot  would 
be  taken  in  by  such  things,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  be 
the  idiot.  Let's  go  and  have  tea."  That  was 
the  way  their  expeditions  usually  ended,  and  they 
would  either  drop  into  a  hotel  or  return  to  Marl- 
borough  Street  and  get  their  tea  at  home,  when  Su- 
san was  very  likely  to  appear  on  the  scene. 

Hubert  also  helped  Florence  arrange  the  Christ- 
mas tree  at  her  settlement  house  and  looked  in  on  the 
happy  throng  on  the  afternoon  of  the  great  day, 
when  the  mere  presence  of  Mrs.  Wainwright  seemed 
to  add  as  much  brightness  to  the  occasion  as  the  flam- 
ing little  candles  amid  the  green  and  sparkling  dec- 
orations. Then  came  the  holidays,  and  Florence 
took  Rothwell  to  a  number  of  parties,  especially  to 
one  very  elaborate  ball  which  followed  the  "coming 
out"  into  society  of  some  one  or  other.  Susan  and 
Max  appeared  at  this  affair  also,  although  they  were 
somewhat  lesser  lights  to  Florence  and  her  good- 
looking  friend.  Every  one  was  glad  to  see  Mrs. 


i3o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Wainwright  again  going  about  with  her  old 
"crowd,"  and  the  groups  of  friends  that  constantly 
came  up  to  greet  her  almost  made  the  party  a  "com- 
ing back"  for  her  quite  as  brilliant  as  the  "coming 
out"  of  the  young  lady  whose  mother  was  hostess. 

Florence  decided  that  Hubert  was  quite  the  most 
delightful  companion  she  had  had  in  many  a  day; 
and  the  young  man  himself  was  warm  in  his  praises 
of  Mrs.  Wainwright,  admitting  to  Susan  that  he  did 
not  know  when  he  had  liked  any  one  so  well  and 
hoped  that  Miss  Anderton  would  not  think  that  he 
was  deserting  her.  At  this  Susan  was  tremendously 
amused,  saying  that  the  very  thing  that  pleased  her 
best  was  to  see  him  taking  an  interest  in  some  one 
other  than  herself. 

"You  know  I  am  an  old  lady,"  she  said. 

"I  know  you  are  a  trump,"  Roth  well  retorted, 
"and  to  talk  of  your  age  is  absurd." 

But  the  situation,  so  far  as  Susan  was  concerned, 
had  been  cleared  soon  after  Christmas  by  the  fact 
that  that  lady  had  spent  most  of  her  time  in  New 
York.  The  case  of  her  uncle's  will  was  well  under 
way,  and  her  presence  was  required  on  the  scene  of 
action.  During  Lent  she  went  to  the  Virginia  Hot 
Springs  to  recuperate  from  the  worry  incident  to  the 
litigation  over  the  will  case.  She  positively  had  re- 
fused Hubert  permission  to  go  with  her;  and,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  was  having  such  a  good  time  in 
Boston  that  he  had  little  desire  to  'leave  town.  It 
was  characteristic  of  Miss  Anderton's  way  of  doing 
things  that,  having  installed  herself  in  the  Boston 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  131 

flat,  she  should  pass  this  over  during  her  absence  to 
her  English  friend.  Here  Rothvvell  had  established 
himself  for  the  winter.  It  also  worked  quite  into 
Susan's  scheme  that  the  business  matters  in  New 
York  should  be  made  as  much  of  as  possible  and 
lengthened  out  perhaps  more  than  was  really  nec- 
essary in  order  that  the  Boston  setting  should  be 
clear  for  Hubert  and  Florence.  She  placed  great 
faith  in  Florence's  no  uncertain  infatuation  for  Hu- 
bert, which  would  have  a  free  stage  only  if  she  her- 
self were  out  of  the  way.  Delane,  happily  for  Flor- 
ence, had  been  quite  out  of  this  picture  during  the 
winter;  as  he  had  been  too  busy  with  business  mat- 
ters to  have  much  time  for  seeing  her,  and  then  had 
gone  for  a  month  to  Florida  to  accompany  his 
mother  and  father  to  their  winter  place  there.  It 
was  a  little  hard  on  Max,  Florence  thought,  to  have 
the  whole  of  Green  vale  affairs  thrust  on  his  shoul- 
ders at  the  very  time  when  things  were  going  at  a 
very  rapid  rate  in  the  development  of  the  land;  but 
Max  was  too  flushed  with  success  to  grumble,  and 
Florence  realized  it  was  none  of  her  business  how 
much  responsibility  Delane  put  upon  her  brother. 

One  morning  in  April,  soon  after  her  return  from 
Virginia,  Susan  dropped  in  to  see  Florence  and  tell 
her  about  the  result  of  her  New  York  affairs.  The 
matter  of  the  will  was  to  be  carried  into  higher 
courts,  as  is  invariably  the  way  in  such  things ;  and 
it  would  be  some  time  before  she  would  know  just 
what  windfall  was  coming  to  her  from  her  uncle's 
estate.  What  was  really  uppermost  in  Susan's 


i32  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

mind  this  morning,  however,  was  to  feel  the  ground 
as  to  just  how  far  Hubert  and  Florence  had  pro- 
gressed in  their  relation  to  each  other.  During  the 
few  days  since  her  return  she  had  been  able  to  find 
out  very  little  of  what  actually  had  happened  in  her 
absence,  beyond  the  enthusiastic  and  rather  boyish 
account  which  Hubert  gave  of  some  of  the  entertain- 
ments at  which  he  had  been  present  during  the 
Boston  season.  That  Florence  had  been  more  than 
kind  to  him  was  apparent  in  every  connection  of 
which  he  spoke.  But  these  occasions  of  kindness 
were  of  the  general  sort,  in  crowds  and  in  large 
affairs,  which  carried  for  Susan  no  hint  or  suggestion 
of  any  more  intimate  relation  between  himself  and 
Mrs.  Wainwright  than  had  existed  before  she  went 
away. 

As  she  came  this  morning  into  the  upstairs  sitting 
room  of  the  Marlborough  Street  house,  where  the 
sun  was  streaming  in,  making  long  lines  of  vibrating 
light  across  the  violet-blue  rug,  and  saw  Florence  in 
a  pink  gown  against  a  background  of  yellow  flowers, 
she  felt  more  than  ever  the  peculiar  appropriateness 
of  all  this — the  scene  and  Florence  so  completely 
within  it — to  Hubert  and  what  he  might  gloriously 
make  of  it.  The  refinement  and  charm  of  it  was  a 
picture  to  Susan  of  what  she  had  always  felt  was  the 
soul  of  Roth  well.  His  English  home,  which  she 
knew  had  been  one  of  fine  traditions,  could  not  so 
have  fitted  the  young  man  as  this  Boston  setting. 
Here  he  would  be  perfectly  placed.  It  was,  too,  a 
visualization  of  what  the  essence  of  the  Boston  man- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  133 

ner  stood  for  in  contrast  to  the  English  one.  It  was 
as  though  the  top  of  the  New  England  achievement 
had  shed  through  the  past  decade  much  of  the  old 
English  materialism,  emerging  in  the  Kendalls  and 
all  their  kind  in  a  finer  and  more  rarified  atmosphere, 
losing  nothing  of  comfort  in  the  process  but  adding 
to  it  an  immeasurable  degree  of  mentality  and  spirit- 
uality. 

"You  are  like  a  spring  flower  this  morning,  my 
dear,"  Susan  said,  as  she  sat  down. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  feel  like  one,"  Florence  replied. 

She  had  a  newspaper  on  her  lap,  which  she  handed 
to  her  friend. 

"I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  this  item  about 
Delane's  motor  running  down  a  girl  last  night,"  she 
added. 

"I  never  read  the  local  news,"  Susan  returned. 
"I  skip  it  all.  The  local  news  in  our  papers  con- 
sists mainly  of  a  detailed  account  of  accidents  and 
murders  in  the  slums  with  the  portrait  of  some 
one's  mother,  or  the  face  of  a  girl  whom  one  never 
would  have  seen,  even  if  she  had  not  been  murdered 
or  run  over.  But,  really,  what  has  happened  that 
seems  to  lay  you  so  low?" 

"Merely,  according  to  your  standpoint,  that  De- 
lane's  car  knocked  down  a  girl  last  night  and  quite 
seriously  injured  her.  Of  course,  the  only  particu- 
lars given  in  the  newspaper  are  that  Delane  is  a 
prominent  young  business  man  behind  the  Green- 
vafe  venture  and  that  his  car  is  a  high-powered 
Packard  limousine.  It  is  too  disgusting — as  though 


i34  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  recklessness  of  fast  driving  at  night  and  the  in- 
juries to  the  girl  are  not  the  most  important  thing. 
Max  called  me  up  from  the  office  before  I  had  fin- 
ished breakfast  to  ask  if  I  would  go  to  the  City  Hos- 
pital with  Delane  to  see  his  victim." 

At  this  Susan  looked  up  quickly.  "You  make 
him  rather  a  beast,  don't  you?"  she  asked. 

"Of  course  I  had  to  go,"  Florence  went  on, 
without  giving  heed.  "As  Max  said,  it  seemed 
rather  in  my  line,  especially  as  the  accident  hap- 
pened in  the  district  where  I  work.  Delane  called 
for  me,  and  I  got  the  particulars  of  the  thing  on 
the  way.  Nora  Delane  was  being  rushed  home 
from  the  theater  with  four  or  five  friends  when 
they  ran  down  a  girl  crossing  the  street.  The 
curious  part  is  that  this  girl  turns  out  to  be  the 
pal  of  Gracie  Linton  about!  whom  I  told  you. 
Gracie  was  at  the  hospital  with  her  friend,  appar- 
ently having  spent  the  night  at  her  bedside.  She 
looked  upon  me  as  a  sort  of  angel  dropped  down 
from  heaven;  and  I  really  think  my  appearance 
caused  her  more  surprise  than  the  accident  to 
Tommy." 

"Tommy?"  Susan  inquired. 

"Yes;  that's  the  other  girl's  name." 

"Is  she  badly  hurt?" 

"Leg  broken  and  severe  shaking  up,"  Florence 
replied.  "She  will  pull  through  all  right;  but  to 
me  the  extraordinary  thing  is  the  calm  and  matter- 
of-fact  way  in  which  Delane  views  the  matter.  He 
says  his  lawyer  will  fix  it  so  that  no  charge  of 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  135 

manslaughter  can  be  entered  against  his  chauffeur; 
and  he  gave  me  some  money  to  buy  things  for 
the  girl.  It  is  so  annoying!  He  will  wash  his 
hands  of  the  affair  by  distributing  a  few  dollars. 
As  though  Tommy's  leg  isn't  as  important  as  that 
of  any  other  girl.  I  can  just  fancy  how  he  would 
have  behaved  if  the  thing  had  happened  to  some 
one  living  over  here  in  the  Back  Bay.  In  that 
case,  sister  Nora  would  have  appeared  in  her 
yellow  furs  in  great  style.  As  it  is  she  hasn't 
shown  up  at  all.  Delane  says  she  is  in  a  state  of 
nerves  due  to  the  excitement  of  the  accident." 

"Which  is  her  natural  state,"  Susan  laughed. 
"But  aren't  you  rather  hard  on  them  ?" 

"They  are  all  hard  themselves,"  Florence  returned. 
"I  told  Delane  that  here  was  a  chance  for  him  to 
do  something  splendid;  and  he  scarcely  took  me  in. 
He  thought  I  meant  something  in  the  matter  of 
money, — doctor's  fees  and  all  that.  That  is  as  far 
as  he  can  see  his  responsibility." 

All  this  might  have  interested  Susan  at  some  other 
time;  but  just  now  she  had  other  things  in  mind. 

"I  am  sure  Hubert  would  do  something  fine  in 
such  a  case,"  she  ventured. 

"I  know  he  would,"  Florence  replied  with  convic- 
tion. "He  would  be  all  there  in  any  situation." 

Susan  said  nothing  to  this  for  a  moment;  but 
finally,  "He  thinks  you  are  splendid." 

Florence  looked  up  quickly  and  rather  "took  in" 
Miss  Anderton,  as  if  wondering  if  Hubert  really  had 
said  that,  and  if  he  had  said  it,  just  how  much  he 


136  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

meant  by  it.  The  moment  of  silence  was  broken 
by  Susan,  who  remarked  that  Florence  had  undoubt- 
edly had  a  trying  morning  and  that  she  would  take 
herself  off  straightway. 

Florence,  who  was  going  back  to  the  hospital  that 
afternoon  to  see  Tommy,  wished  that  Rothwell 
might  go  with  her.  She  thought  she  would  call  him 
up  on  the  telephone,  yet  felt  a  slight  awkwardness 
in  always  taking  the  initiative  in  their  plans  together. 
Through  the  winter  it  nearly  always  had  been  her 
arrangements  for  him  that  had  thrown  them  with 
each  other;  and  with  her  growing  consciousness  of 
her  interest  in  him,  she  realized  that  it  was  beginning 
to  be  the  old  story  of  the  woman  pursuing  the  man. 
If  the  fascination  he  held  for  her  had  been  a  thing 
of  minor  importance,  she  would  have  felt  perfectly 
all  right  to  try  to  get  'hold  of  him  'for  any  and 
all  occasions.  However,  this  visit  to  the  hospital 
was  really  rather  a  tiresome  business;  she  thought 
it  better  to  leave  Hubert  out  of  the  matter. 

As  she  walked  through  the  South  End  later  in 
the  day  and  saw  the  dome  of  the  hospital,  quite 
French  in  its  way,  at  the  end  of  a  long  vista  of 
trees,  she  felt  the  peculiar  charm  of  what  had  thus 
far  been  her  relationship  to  the  Englishman.  This 
bit  of  old  Boston  was  of  particular  charm,  and  re- 
mote from  the  often  confused  obtrusiveness  of  the 
more  modern  parts  of  town.  To  Florence,  Rothwell 
was  in  some  way  like  this ;  he  belonged  not  quite  to 
the  present.  One  could  scarcely  call  him  old-fash- 
ioned ;  and  yet  in  his  personality  the  emphasis  seemed 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  137 

always  upon  the  charming  things  in  life  rather  than 
upon  the  merely  successful.  She  remembered  a  walk 
with  him  early  in  the  winter  when  she  had  showed 
him  the  city,  and  his  keen  appreciation  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  different  districts  they  wandered 
through.  How  many  points  of  individuality  Boston 
really  had.  There  were  more  neighborhoods  and 
localities,  all  differing  totally  from  one  another,  than 
she  could  remember  in  any  American  city.  Most 
large  towns  had  an  expression  that  went  through  the 
whole  community ;  but  here  the  aspect  was  different 
in  every  section.  There  were  the  West  End  red 
brick  houses,  which  Rothwell  noted  as  more  English 
than  modern  London;  the  Back  Bay,  with  a  certain 
blandness  like  a  grand  old  lady  looking  remotely 
through  her  lorgnon.  The  North  End,  with  its 
narrow  ways,  sudden  corners,  and  diverting  vistas, 
Rothwell  had  wished  to  paint ;  while  at  the  other  end 
of  town  in  the  Fenway,  in  the  array  of  schools  and 
scientific  institutions,  museums  and  hospitals,  they 
both  had  realized  the  effect  of  culture  laid  on  thick. 
Here  in  the  South  End  a  rather  frayed  Victorianism 
pervaded  the  scene  until  one  seemed  to  catch  the  very 
smell  of  horsehair  furniture. 

Yes;  Florence  wished  Hubert  were  with  her. 
Especially,  when  at  the  end  of  the  quiet  square  in 
front  of  the  hospital  she  saw  Delane's  car.  In  its 
glistening  newness  and  bright  blue  coat  of  paint 
there  was  something  distinctly  in  contrast  to  the 
dinginess  of  the  neighborhood.  She  wondered  why 
Delane  had  come  again  to  see  Tommy  that  day; 


138  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

surely  his  business  was  too  important  to  permit  him 
to  make  such  frequent  visits  to  a  poor,  unknown 
girl  who  had  been  injured  by  his  motor.  When  she 
got  inside  and  went  down  the  long  Accident  Ward, 
she  could  see  his  broad  shoulders  and  head  by  the 
bed  of  Tommy.  Gracie  was  sitting  there,  and 
Delane  standing  above,  smiling  down  at  the  two 
girls;  but  especially,  as  Florence  noted  as  she  came 
nearer,  smiling  at  Gracie.  There  appeared  to  be 
much  laughter  and  the  best  sort  of  understanding 
between  the  persons  of  the  little  group,  none  of 
whom  was  aware  of  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright  until  she  was  directly  upon  them. 

Delane  at  once  looked  up,  and  shaking  hands 
with  her,  remarked  that  Tommy  was  indeed  fortu- 
nate in  having  two  friends  who  were  so  attentive  to 
her. 

"It's  worth  being  run  over,  isn't  it,"  Gracie  said, 
"when  you  find  two  pals  like  these." 

Tommy  smiled  back  faintly  and  put  out  her  hand, 
which  Florence  took  and  held  several  moments. 
A  nurse  appearing  just  then,  Florence  asked  how 
soon  Tommy  would  be  able  to  leave  the  hospital; 
she  was  told  probably  at  the  end  of  three  or  four 
weeks. 

Thereupon  Delane  said,  "First  rate;  I  will  come 
to  see  you  often  and  you  just  let  Mrs.  Wainwright 
know  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  for  you." 

"You  are  certainly  very  kind,  sir,"  Tommy  said, 
as  Delane  started  to  go. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  he  answered.     Then,  turning 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  139 

to  Florence,  he  asked  if  he  might  be  allowed  to  take 
her  home.  He  was  going  to  see  the  head  nurse 
about  certain  things  and  would  come  back  for  her 
in  ten  minutes. 

Gracie  was  leaving  just  then  and  walked  away 
with  Delane.  As  Florence  saw  them  going  down  the 
ward,  there  was  something  in  the  situation  which 
was  not  altogether  pleasant  to  her.  She  could  not 
have  said  just  what  it  was ;  but  the  fact  that  Delane 
had  come  twice  to  the  hospital  in  one  day  and  seemed 
on  such  a  friendly  footing  with  both  Tommy  and 
Gracie  denoted  for  her  something  more  than  the 
casual  interest  which  up  to  now  he  had  shown  in 
the  injuries  to  the  girl. 

Florence  sat  and  talked  with  Tommy,  who  was 
really  very  weak.  As  she  lay  there,  pale  and  fragile, 
her  dark  hair  done  loosely  down  her  back  and  look- 
ing very  soft  against  the  whiteness  of  the  pillow, 
Florence  felt  a  great  pity  for  her.  She  seemed  so 
different  now,  with  all  the  paint  and  powder  and 
shoddy  clothes  removed ;  and  was  so  natural,  so  like 
a  great  many  other  girls.  And  even  her  manner 
was  different,  with  the  superficial  coarseness  quite 
gone.  If,  when  she  recovered,  she  could  be  taken 
away  in  just  this  condition, — away  from  her  old 
life,  dressed  in  new  clothes  and  never  see  or  come 
in  contact  with  any  of  her  old  associations,  what 
might  not  be  done,  thought  Florence,  in  helping 
this  girl  to  become  a  normal,  healthy  human  being. 
It  was  too  soon  yet  to  say  anything  to  Gracie  about 
the  plan  she  had  in  mind  for  her  in  connection  with 


140  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Greenvale;  but  certainly  it  would  bear  thinking  of. 
More  especially  now  that  she  had  seen  Tommy  in 
this  condition,  the  possibilities  of  a  complete  renewal 
of  her  personality  seemed  more  feasible  than  ever. 
Besides,  there  was  something  very  sweet  in  Gracie's 
devotion  to  her  pal.  Here  in  the  hospital  the  two 
girls  appeared  entirely  natural  and  quite  capable  of 
a  better  life  than  the  one  they  had  been  leading. 
So  much  might  be  accomplished  with  the  two  of 
them,  while  with  one  it  would  be  more  difficult ; 
for  each  could  help  and  support  the  other  in  any 
attempt  along  the  lines  which  Florence  contem- 
plated. 

But  here  was  Delane  again;  and  a  bell,  ringing 
at  one  end  of  the  room,  announced  that  the  visitors 
must  go. 

"Well,"  said  Delane,  on  the  way  back  to  Marl- 
borough  Street,  "it  certainly  has  come  out  better 
than  we  could  have  expected." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  Florence  asked. 

"Oh,  that  her  injuries  aren't  any  worse.  Some- 
times you  get  into  awful  scrapes  in  these  things." 

"I  should  think  quite  likely,"  Florence  interrupted. 

"In  South  Boston  once,"  he  went  on,  "I  came  near 
getting  into  a  mess  about  a  child  my  car  hit.  The 
child's  father  tried  to  make  it  hot  for  me ;  but  fortun- 
ately I  had  friends  at  City  Hall,  and  they  settled  the 
thing  devilish  quick." 

"And  what  became  of  the  child?"  Florence  in- 
quired. 

"Oh,  the  kid  got  well,  I  suppose.     It  was  in  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  141 

hospital  some  time,  but  children's  bones  don't  take 
long  to  mend." 

"Didn't  you  ever  find  out  about  it?" 

"No;  I  don't  have  the  time  to  follow  up  these 
things.  I  gave  the  father  five  hundred  dollars. 
That  seems  big,  but  it  really  was  not  much,  consider- 
ing what  I  might  have  had  to  pay  if  the  matter  had 
come  into  court." 

The  hardness  of  Delane  was  becoming  more  and 
more  apparent  to  Florence.  She  had  not  cared  for 
him  from  the  first ;  but  she  had  tried  to  see  only  his 
best  side  on  account  of  her  brother's  relation  to 
him.  Susan  had  taken  a  rather  glowing  view  of 
the  possibilities  in  him,  Florence  could  not  see 
them. 

After  a  rather  long  silence  he  said  suddenly, 
"Come,  Mrs.  Wainwright,  stay  out  to  dinner  with 
me  somewhere.  You  don't  have  to  get  back  to  your 
brother.  Let's  go  on  a  little  spree  together." 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  a  lark," 
Florence  replied.  "Besides,"  she  added,  "I  am 
expecting  Miss  Anderton  to  dinner." 

She  knew  it  was  unkind  in  her  not  to  ask  him 
to  the  house  also;  but  she  really  did  not  want  him. 
She  could  not  make  him  out.  Was  he  merely  trying 
to  be  nice  to  her,  to  play  up  to  the  situation  on 
account  of  Max;  or  was  he  taking  something  of  an 
interest  in  her? 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "you  are  the  sort  of  person, 
Mrs.  Wainwright,  that  it  does  a  fellow  like  me  a 
lot  of  good  to  know.  I  have  been  rather  wild  in 


142  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

my  time,  and  I  suppose  I  am  still,  in  a  way,  under 
the  surface ;  but  I  think  knowing  some  one  like  you 
would  help  a  great  deal.  Of  course,  Nora  is  all 
right;  she's  one  fine  girl.  I  hope  you  like  Nora. 
But  she  has  her  own  interests,  and  goes  about  with 
her  own  set,  and  isn't  very  much  at  home.  There 
really  is  not  any  one  for  me  to  be  especially  fond  of .  ' 

Right  here  it  seemed  high  time  to  turn  the  con- 
versation. Florence  had  no  intention  of  being 
Delane's  guardian  angel  or  the  saving  grace  of  his 
life.  The  arrival  home,  however,  made  any  move 
on  her  part  unnecessary. 

As  she  said  good-by,  thanking  him  for  bringing 
her  back,  he  held  her  hand  a  moment,  pressing  it 
a  little  too  warmly.  There  was  an  awkward  pause 
until  Florence  drew  away  quickly  and  disappeared 
into  the  house.  As  she  had  expected,  Susan  was 
there  and  came  into  the  hall  to  greet  her.  When 
Florence  told  her  that  on  the  way  home  Delane  had 
been  rather  personal  in  his  remarks,  that  lady  merely 
said,  "I  think  he  has  a  'crush'  on  you,  my  dear." 

"What  a  ridiculous  idea,"  Florence  exclaimed, 
as  she  hurried  upstairs  to  dress  for  dinner. 

For  Susan,  however,  there  was  nothing  ridiculous 
in  it;  especially  in  view  of  what  she  had  suspected 
on  several  former  occasions.  She  wondered  how 
long  it  would  take  her  friend  to  discover  Delane's 
state  of  mind.  She  must  be  more  watchful  than 
ever,  not  only  on  Florence's  account  but  because 
of  Hubert.  Where  was  he,  anyway,  Susan  won- 
dered; why  hadn't  he  been  on  the  scene  to-night? 


CHAPTER  IX 

Certainly,  if  Delane  had  any  serious  intentions 
concerning  Florence,  it  would  be  rather  an  obstacle 
to  what  Susan  might  plan  for  Hubert.  Delane 
was  too  important  in  the  scheme  of  things  to  be 
turned  aside  casually  from  his  purposes.  He  was 
the  sort  that  must  be  dealt  with.  The  situation,  as 
Susan  now  saw  it,  had  many  angles  and  corners  for 
them  all.  Whether  she  would  try  to  turn  the  first 
corner  in  order  that  she  might  find  out  more  clearly 
Delane's  feelings  in  the  matter  was  what  came  up 
for  her  immediate  decision.  No  move,  however, 
on  her  part  was  necessary,  as  Delane  himself  ap- 
peared a  few  nights  later  at  her  flat. 

As  he  sat  by  an  open  window  where  a  fresh  breeze 
blew  in  from  the  river,  slightly  ruffling  his  hair,  he 
showed  undoubtedly  to  the  best  advantage.  Susan 
had  never  realized  before  the  full  strength  of  his 
features.  He  was  a  type  that  is  seen  to  the  best  in 
some  effect  of  half  lights  and  shadow,  and  not  in 
the  brilliant  glare  of  a  drawing-room  or  against  a 
background  incongruous  to  his  casual  manners. 

"You're  a  funny  sort,"  Susan  remarked,  after  a 
pause  which  had  seemed  interminable. 

"How  do  you  mean?"  Delane  asked  in  a  listless 
tone  of  voice. 


144  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Why, '  she  answered,  "you  have  sat  there  fully 
five  minutes,  completely  oblivious  of  my  presence." 

"Excuse  me,"  Delane  was  quick  to  reply;  "but 
I  was  thinking." 

"What  were  you  thinking  about, — Greenvale?" 

"Not  especially.  Why  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  people 
always  suppose  I  am  thinking  about  Greenvale. 
Certainly  I  am  a  human  being  and  have  a  mind  for 
something  besides  my  work." 

"Of  course,"  Susan  said.  "But  you  always  give 
the  impression  of  being  frightfully  absorbed, — ab- 
sorbed as  you  are  now  in  the  river  and  the  view." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  river." 

"Of  me  perhaps." 

"You  are  very  flattering  to  yourself." 

"One  has  to  be  sometimes,"  Susan  went  on. 

"Has  any  one  failed  you?"  Delane  asked  with 
sudden  interest. 

"Certainly  not;  I  was  only  teasing  you." 

There  was  another  pause  in  which  he  continued 
to  gaze  out  of  the  window,  when  Susan,  seizing  the 
opportune  moment,  flung  out,  "I  think  you  are  in 
love." 

Delane  turned  quickly  to  her,  but  said  nothing. 

"If  you  are  like  the  rest  of  the  men  I  know," 
Susan  remarked,  "you  surely  have  your  little  love 
affairs." 

"I  don't  think  there  is  any  such  thing  as  a  little 
love  affair,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"A  big  one  then." 

"The  big  ones  people  don't  talk  about." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  145 

Susan  was  beginning  to  see  that  she  would  not  get 
very  far  in  finding  out  his  present  state  of  mind. 
After  a  moment  she  continued,  "Mrs.  Wainwright 
told  me  of  your  mishap  the  other  night." 

"That  was  rather  bad,"  he  replied.  "It  was  good 
of  Mrs.  Wainwright,  though,  to  go  to  the  hospital 
to  see  the  girl.  She  turned  out  to  be  somebody 
she  knew.  I  think  she  has  been  over  again  to-day  to 
take  some  things.  It  is  mighty  kind  of  her,  I  am 
sure." 

"Florence  is  always  like  that,"  Susan  said. 

"Yes ;  but  what  a  cool  sort  of  person  she  is,  after 
all." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Perhaps  I  should  say  cold,"  Delane  went  on; 
"and  yet  that  is  not  exactly  my  idea  of  her." 

"Remote  would  hit  it  nearer,"  Susan  interrupted. 

"Yes,  'remote' ;  that's  the  word.  She  is  so  charm- 
ing and  good  and  all  that;  but  she  never  seems 
to  really  want  you  to  know  her — to  admit  you  to 
her  friendship.  I  can't  quite  understand  her." 

"Perhaps  that  is  because  you  don't  really  know 
her." 

"I  would  like  to  know  her, — to  know  her  awfully 
well." 

"In  what  way?"  Susan  inquired  as  casually  as 
possible,  but  thinking  that  something  might  be 
forthcoming  now  which  would  give  her  a  firmer 
grasp  of  the  situation. 

"To  be  her  friend,"  was  all  that  Delane  said  in 
reply. 


146  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"But  you  are  her  friend,  I  am  sure,"  Susan  re- 
turned. 

"Perhaps,  to  a  certain  extent." 

"You  see,"  she  pursued,  "Florence  is  too  absorbed 
in  her  work  to  feel  much  interest  in  seeking  inti- 
mate friendships.  To  her,  her  work  is  everything, 
and  what  we  choose  to  call  her  remoteness  is  merely 
her  concentration  in  that  work.  I  have  noticed  the 
difference  since  my  return  from  Europe.  We  used 
to  be  so  much  together,  and  I  seemed  a  part  of  her 
life.  Now,  although  I  am  with  her  a  great  deal, 
it  is  as  if  I  were  only  an  incident  among  her  many 
other  activities. 

Here  Susan  saw  her  advantage  by  placing  Flor- 
ence in  Delane's  conception  quite  out  of  the  sphere 
of  his  life.  If  she  could  only  make  him  feel  that 
Mrs.  Wainwright  could  have  no  possible  interest 
in  him  beyond  his  connection  with  Greenvale  and 
Max,  it  might  be  the  means  of  turning  the  corner  of 
his  infatuation. 

"Yes,"  she  was  saying,  "I  am  not  surprised  that 
you  have  noticed  this  characteristic  in  my  friend. 
We  all  feel  it.  Florence  is  such  a  dear,  but  some- 
times we  wish  that  we  could  get  a  little  nearer  to 
her." 

"I  don't  see  why  the  slum  work  appeals  to  her  so 
much,"  Delane  interposed. 

"Oh,  that  is  just  what  I  mean,"  Susan  said. 
"Her  work  is  her  life.  She  has  given  herself  to 
it  completely,  just  as  she  gave  herself  to  Jack  Wain- 
wright. I  think  it  is  really  because  she  loved  her 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  147 

husband  so  much  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
any  one  ever  to  take  his  place." 

"You  think  she  will  never  marry  again?" 
"I  should  consider  it  extremely  doubtful." 
"But  isn't  she  rather  fond  of  Rothwell?"  Delane 
asked. 

"Hubert,  my  dear  fellow,  is  my  friend.  He  came 
over  from  England  to  see  me.  Whatever  made 
you  imagine  there  was  anything  between  him  and 
Florence?" 

"Oh,  simply,"  Delane  remarked,  "because  I  think 
they  were  together  a  good  deal  last  winter.  At 
least,  Max  said  they  were.  I  never  go  around  in 
their  crowd,  so  I  suppose  I  don't  really  know  very 
much  about  it." 

There  was  something  so  taken  for  granted  in  the 
way  Delane  constantly  put  himself  out  of  Flor- 
ence's set  that  Susan  felt  sorry  for  him.  His  in- 
timate connection  with  Max  in  business  and  his 
remoteness  from  Kendall's  social  life  was  distinctly 
annoying  to  her.  It  was  the  sort  of  thing,  she  knew, 
that  happened  frequently  in  the  great  American 
democracy;  but  the  old  families  that  could  stoop  to 
the  millions  of  the  self-made  man  she  would  like  to 
see  mingle  a  little  more  with  the  maker  of  those 
millions.  Delane  seemed  to  her  an  eligible  person 
if  a  few  exterior  roughnesses  were  polished  down 
a  bit ;  and  even  now,  since  first  meeting  him  six 
months  before,  she  could  see  a  great  difference. 
His  manner  of  dressing  was  less  obtrusive,  and  he 
talked  very  well  when  he  was  thoroughly  interested 


I48  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

in  a  subject.  However,  for  her  present  occasion 
she  could  not  let  the  opportunity  fail  her  of  agree- 
ing with  him  as  to  whatever  coldness  he  felt  in 
Florence  that  he  might  continue  to  see  himself  on  the 
outside  of  that  connection. 

"Your  Kendalls  and  the  rest  of  their  sort,"  Susan 
f>egan  again,  "are  a  fetish;  and  adoring  generations 
of  people  just  beyond  the  pale  have  made  them  be- 
lieve they  are  the  elect  of  the  Lord.  I  won't  deny 
that  they  are  a  pretty  fine  lot, — about  as  good  all 
around  as  one  would  wish  to  see ;  but  in  these  days 
when  hero  worship  is  distinctly  mid-Victorian,  one 
would  enjoy  the  spectacle  of  a  few  pedestals  knocked 
down.  The  difficulty  is,  though,  that  we  have  only 
money  bags  to  take  their  place." 

"You  talk  confoundedly  well,  Miss  Anderton," 
Delane  said,  laughing;  "but  I  don't  always  follow 
you." 

"I  wish  you  would  call  me  Susan,"  that  lady  re- 
marked. "Just  feel  that  I  am  your  real  friend; 
and  that  you  will  find  me  'all  there'  in  any  situation." 

"You're  all  right,  Susan  dear,"  Delane  responded 
heartily,  with  the  faintest  trace  of  an  Irish  brogue, 
"and  Jim  Delane  knows  which  side  his  bread  is  but- 
tered on." 

They  were  both  laughing  at  their  sudden  burst 
of  enthusiasm  for  each  other  when  the  doorbell  rang, 
and  Rothwell  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"I  am  very  fortunate  to-night,"  Susan  said,  as  she 
greeted  him.  "It  is  not  often  that  I  have  two  men 
drop  in  unexpectedly  this  way.  It  is  first  rate. 


.KENDALL'S  SISTER  149 

Sit  down,  both  of  you,  and  I  will  get  out  my  last 
bottle  of  Scotch." 

Whether  or  not  the  drink  which  Susan  produced 
had  the  tendency  to  make  Delane  silent  and  Roth- 
wrell  voluble,  it  would  be  hard  to  say;  but  at  any 
rate,  the  former  young  gentleman  became  remark- 
ably quiet  and  soon  after  made  his  departure;  while 
Hubert,  although  seeing  that  Susan  wished  to  write 
some  letters,  insisted  that  she  should  sit  down  and 
talk  with  him,  as  he  had  much  to  say. 

"In  fact,"  he  began,  "I  have  come  to  propose 
for — shall  I  say  the  eleventh  time,  my  dear  Susan?" 

"You  had  better  make  it  an  even  dozen,"  she  re- 
plied, "as  I  have  long  since  lost  the  count." 

"But  this  is  the  real  thing,"  Hubert  persisted. 

"What  about  the  time  in  Paris?"  Susan  inquired. 
"Certainly  that  was  the  real  thing,  and  surely  I 
was  final  in  my  answer." 

"No  answer  can  be  final  until  you  accept  me." 

"Then  I  fear  our  story  must  remain  unfinished." 

"But  why  should  it  be  unfinished,"  Rothwell  ex- 
claimed, getting  up  and  standing  above  Miss  Ander- 
ton,  who  had  sat  down  by  her  desk.  "You  know 
how  well  we  get  on  together;  you  know  exactly 
my  feelings  toward  you.  Why  won't  you  marry 
me?" 

"Simply,"  Susan  said,  "because  I  don't  wish  to 
marry.  Besides,  I  am  far  too  old  for  you;  and  as 
an  incident  of  perhaps  first  importance,  I  am  not  in 
love  with  you." 

"That  doesn't  count  at  all,"  Hubert  interrupted. 


150  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"As  I  told  you  before,  it  is  no  reason  with  me." 

"Now  really,  my  dear  boy,"  Susan  went  on,  tak- 
ing Hubert's  hand,  "I  can't  go  through  scenes  like 
this  with  you  once  a  year  or  every  six  months.  It 
is  too  harrowing.  You  know  I  have  nerves,  al- 
though people  won't  attribute  them  to  me.  I  want 
to  see  you  married,  and  I  want  to  see  you  happy; 
but  I  don't  wish  to  see  you  married  to  myself. 
Why  won't  you  look  about  a  bit?  Why  can't  you 
realize  that  I  am  out  of  the  question;  that  I  am 
no  longer  in  the  running?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  won't  admit.  You  will 
always  be  in  the  running  for  me." 

"Quite  all  right;  so  far  it  suits  me  exactly,"  she 
continued.  "I  always  wish  to  be  your  friend,  and 
I  should  miss  you  awfully  if  for  any  reason  I  could 
not  see  you  now  and  then." 

Hubert  stood  a  moment,  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, not  knowing  whether  he  was  utterly  miserable 
on  account  of  what  Susan  had  said,  or  rather  pleased 
that  the  situation  was  at  last  clear.  He  felt  that 
perhaps  now  he  had  shot  his  last  arrow;  and  there 
is  always  a  certain  feeling  of  relief  when  that  has 
been  done. 

Rothwell  thought  that  he  never  had  fooled  himself 
as  to  his  attitude  toward  Susan.  He  knew  that  he 
loved  her,  liked  her  better  than  any  woman  he  had 
ever  known;  yet  the  fact  of  their  difference  in  age 
put  whatever  there  was  of  physical  attraction  in 
abeyance  to  the  higher  plane  of  true  friendship. 
Susan  realized  much  more  clearly  than  he  did  that 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  151 

this  was  the  ground  on  which  he  approached  her. 
That  they  should  always  remain  on  this  firm  footing 
of  comradeship  was  what  she  wished.  However, 
if  Hubert  were  to  insist  upon  marriage  and  propose 
to  her  annually,  she  must  definitely  break  with  him. 
This  would  not  be  easy  unless  some  one  could  be 
found  to  claim  his  attention  and  in  some  way  take 
her  place. 

"Hubert,"  she  said  at  last,  "it  would  be  absurd 
for  us  to  marry.  We  both  have  lots  of  money  and 
a  very  strong  notion  of  our  /personal  freedom. 
Why  don't  you  find  a  girl  of  your  own  age  who 
would  be  really  helped  by  becoming  your  wife?" 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  Rothwell  exclaimed.  "Do 
you  imagine  that  I  am  considering  marriage  from 
the  mercenary  end  and  its  relation  to  other  people? 
I  am  thinking  of  myself  and  what  I  want  in  the 
matter." 

"As  men  usually  do,"  Susan  interrupted.  Then 
she  went  on,  "I  was  thinking  of  some  person  like 
Florence  Wainwright.  You  need  not  be  passion- 
ately in  love  with  her,"  she  hastened  to  add,  as  she 
saw  a  movement  on  the  part  of  her  friend  to  expos- 
tulate. "You  are  not  even  that  with  me.  But  you 
could  make  her  very  happy.  It  is  ridiculous  to  say 
that  you  wouldn't  be  happy  yourself  wedded  to  such 
a  fine  woman.  Fancy  what  an  annoying  person  I 
should  be  with  all  my  flitting  about  and  old-maid 
habits.  You  never  could  endure  it  for  long.  But 
Florence  is  the  born  wife;  she  is  in  her  element  in 
the  married  state,  You  should  have  known  her 


152  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

years  ago  in  Paris  with  Jack.  She  made  his  home 
perfectly  delightful,  and  she  would  do  it  again  for 
the  man  she  was  fond  of.  You  know,  sometimes 
it  is  better  to  be  loved  than  to  love.  Of  course  a 
man  never  realizes  that  until  it  is  too  late.  Now 
promise  that  you  will  no  longer  consider  me  in  a 
romantic  light.  Take  off  your  rose-colored  spec- 
tacles; I  don't  look  well  through  them." 

"And  you  are  sending  me  back  to  England  with 
this  answer?"  Hubert  asked. 

"Certainly  I  am  not  sending  you  back  to  Eng- 
land," she  said  hastily.  "I  wish  you  to  stay  right 
here.  You  can  be  a  great  help  to  Florence  in  her 
ideas  for  Greenvale;  and  I  know  it  is  the  sort  of 
thing  which  will  interest  you." 

"I  am  not  going  to  have  any  illusions  about  her." 

"Let  her  have  the  illusions;  you  needn't  trouble 
yourself  on  that  score." 

"For  whatever  reason  I  stay  in  America,  it  will 
really  be  because  I  like  being  near  you." 

"There  you  go  again,"  Susan  ejaculated.  "What 
did  I  tell  you?" 

"That  you  will  be  my  friend,"  Hubert  said. 
"Rather  cold  comfort  in  my  opinion;  but  isn't  that 
all  I  am  able  to  ask?" 

"By  the  way,"  Susan  resumed;  "you  can  prove 
your  friendship  by  doing  something  for  me  now. 
Delane,  you  know,  is  rather  keen  on  Florence." 

"How  amusing,"  Rothwell  laughed. 

"Scarcely  that.  He  is  very  interested  in  her  and 
likely  to  become  something  of  an  annoyance,  if  I 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  153 

read  him  right.  He  came  here  to-night  to  talk  with 
me  about  her." 

"And  not  to  make  love  to  you  ?  I  should  say  that 
he  would  get  on  much  better  with  you  than  with 
your  friend."  After  a  moment  he  asked,  "Does 
she  know  Delane's  attitude?" 

"She  must  realize  that  he  is  decidedly  interested 
in  her;  but  from  the  first  she  has  never  liked  him." 

"I  can  understand  that,"  Hubert  remarked.  "But 
in  that  case  I  should  think  the  situation  would  take 
care  of  itself." 

"Of  course  you  would,"  Susan  continued,  "be- 
cause you  are  a  man,  and  then  you  English  are  so 
adorably  calm." 

"Leaving  all  the  English  business  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do?" 

"Merely  devote  yourself  to  Florence  as  much  as 
you  feel  that  it  becomes  you  to  do." 

"And  keep  a  clear  conscience,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"Yes;  above  all,  keep  a  clear  conscience,"  she 
answered,  a  little  quizzically. 

"But  that  is  just  what  I  am  doing.  I  have  been 
about  a  lot  with  Mrs.  Wainwright  this  winter." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  Susan  replied.  "But  put 
more  'punch'  into  it,  as  the  Americans  say." 

"Won't  Mrs.  Wainwright  misunderstand?"  Roth- 
well  asked.  "Won't  she  think  that  I  am  paying  her 
definite  attention?" 

"What  if  she  does?" 

"What  if  she  does!  I  don't  wish  to  mislead  the 
poor  lady." 


154  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"You  certainly  have  had  no  scruples  about  mis- 
leading me,"  Susan  said.  "How  fortunate  that  I 
was  not  younger.  I  can  see  how  I  would  have  been 
swept  off  my  feet  by  your  persistence.  Now  you 
are  afraid  of  carrying  Florence  by  storm.  Oh,  the 
conceit  of  men." 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,"  Rothwell  expostulated.  "I 
only  want  to  make  sure  where  I  stand." 

"And  like  all  your  class,  you  don't  wish  to  leap 
before  you  look." 

"But  just  what  is  it  you  ask  me  to  do?"  he  went 
on. 

"To  be  quite  frank,"  Susan  said,  "I  would  like  to 
feel  there  is  some  one  taking  a  definite  interest  in 
Florence  to  protect  her  from  Delane's  attentions." 

"A  sort  of  bodyguard  in  the  person  of  an  eligi- 
ble young  man,  eh?" 

"Exactly  that;  and  no  one  could  be  better  than 
you,  because  Florence  likes  you." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  Hubert  said,  "and  that  is 
just  where  the  danger  lies.  A  spark  in  such  cases  is 
as  good  as  a  fire." 

"But  you  may  be  very  sure,"  Susan  continued, 
"that  you  need  have  no  fear  of  compromising  your- 
self. The  Kendalls  are  not  that  sort." 

"I  was  only  thinking  of  Mrs.  Wainwright's  feel- 
ings in  the  matter." 

"If  you  think  only  of  that,  then  do  what  I  say. 
Make  yourself  her  friend  and  pal,  as  it  were,  seeing 
to  it  that  she  has  no  time  for  Delane." 

"I  think  you  are  seeing  chimseras  as  far  as  Delane 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  155 

is  concerned,"  Hubert  replied;  "and  certainly  Flor- 
ence is  able  to  look  out  for  herself  in  that  quarter." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  anything;  Delane  is  a  very 
persistent  person." 

"I  can  see  how  he  will  dislike  me  most  awfully." 

"He  probably  does  already,"  was  Miss  Anderton's 
answer  to  this. 

"Very  well,"  Rothwell  at  last  said,  as  he  started 
to  go;  "I  will  do  what  I  can,  and  although  I  like  Mrs. 
Wainwright  very  much — better  than  any  one  I 
have  met  over  here — yet  I  feel  no  great  enthusiasm 
in  going  into  this  thing  in  quite  the  manner  you 
suggest." 

"To  hell  with  enthusiasm!"  Susan  exclaimed. 
"It  is  Florence's  happiness  I  am  thinking  about." 


CHAPTER  X 

In  spite  of  Susan's  well-laid  plans  in  respect  to 
Florence  and  Hubert,  Delane  stole  a  march  on  her 
by  going  straight  from  her  house  to  the  Kendalls'. 
Although  he  asked  for  both  Max  and  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright,  it  was  really  the  latter  whom  he  wished  to 
see.  Florence,  who  desired  to  talk  with  him  about 
Tommy  and  Gracie,  was  glad  of  this  opportunity 
of  getting  his  views  on  the  subject 

He  apologized  for  calling  so  late;  and  then  the 
conversation  wandered  to  matters  relative  to  Green- 
vale  and  how  soon  it  would  actually  be  "running," 
as  Delane  chose  to  phrase  it.  This  led  to  what  was 
uppermost  in  Florence's  mind, — that  is,  how  soon 
she  would  be  able  to  try  her  experiment  of  sending 
Gracie  and  Tommy — and  perhaps  later  other  girls 
— to  Greenvale  to  live.  Several  times  she  had  at- 
tempted to  talk  with  Max  about  it,  but  with  not 
much  success.  To  him  it  was  all  preposterous,  not 
only  savoring  of  far-fetched  Socialistic  ideas  but 
questionable  as  to  the  point  of  placing  such  girls  in 
the  new  community. 

"It  sounds  like  a  Bolshevist  'House  of  Rest,' ' 
Max  said  one  day,  "and  it  certainly  can  be  of  no 
advantage  to  a  respectable  young  suburb  to  have  a 
bunch  of  wild  girls  dropped  down  upon  it." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  157 

"Greenvak  has  no  social  reputation  to  live  up  to," 
Florence  had  said  in  reply.  "I  don't  intend  to  form 
a  colony  of  undesirables.  I  merely  wish  to  send 
Tommy  into  the  country  to  recuperate  and  to  see 
what  a  new  environment  will  do  for  both  her  and 
Grade." 

The  practical  side  of  an  argument  such  as  this 
had  little  effect  upon  Max.  He  could  not  under- 
stand why  these  girls  should  enter  into  Florence's 
concern  any  more  than  he  could  comprehend  his 
sister's  depression  after  a  hard  day's  work  in  the 
slums.  People  like  Gracie  and  Tommy  were  beyond 
his  horizon ;  and  the  very  idea  of  their  having  any 
connection  with  Greenvale  was  not  only  absurd  but 
distinctly  annoying  to  him.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
annoyance  which  had  shown  in  his  voice  when  he 
wound  up  the  conversation  with  his  sister  by  remark- 
ing that  the  subject  did  not  interest  him  in  the  least, 
and  that  he  would  be  very  glad  if  Florence  would 
clear  her  mind  of  such  preposterous  notions.  This 
had  told  her  quite  plainly  that  nothing  further  could 
be  done  in  that  quarter.  She  thought,  however, 
that  Delane  might  be  approachable. 

While  she  would  have  hesitated  to  ask  any  favors 
of  him,  yet  this  matter  of  the  girls  was  of  such 
intense  interest  to  her  in  relation  with  what  she 
hoped  to  do  that  she  felt  she  would  be  placing  her- 
self under  no  obligation  in  speaking  to  him  about  it. 
It  was  easy  enough  this  evening  to  introduce  the  sub- 
ject, as  naturally  Delane  wanted  to  know  how 
Tommy  was  getting  on  and  how  long  she  would 


158  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

have  to  stay  in  the  hospital.  Then  Florence  men- 
tioned taking  her  out  to  Greenvale  when  that  place 
should  begin  to  be  settled.  The  social  aspect  of  the 
thing  did  not  enter  into  the  question  for  Delane. 
He  considered  merely  how  it  could  be  done ;  whether 
the  girls  would  be  boarded  out,  and  who  would  look 
after  them  and  see  that  they  behaved  themselves. 

"I  will  see  that  they  behave  themselves,"  Flor- 
ence said  with  enthusiasm.  "All  I  need  to  know  is 
whether  I  shall  be  able  to  get  a  place  for  them  and 
how  soon?" 

"Of  course,"  Delane  replied,  after  a  moment's  re- 
flection; "a  number  of  houses  are  being  built  now. 
Then  there  is  an  apartment  house  on  the  edge  of 
our  land  which  was  begun  early  in  the  spring,  and 
I  think  must  be  nearly  ready  for  occupancy." 

"Why  couldn't  I  rent  a  flat  there  and  get  the  girls 
out  as  soon  as  Tommy  is  able  to  be  moved  from  the 
hospital?  It  is  perfectly  clear  that  Max  will  not 
approve  of  this  at  all.  I  rely  upon  you  to  make 
him  see  it  in  the  right  light." 

"You  don't  need  any  pull  with  your  brother,"  De- 
lane  laughed,  "to  fix  the  girls  up  at  Greenvale.  Our 
houses  are  open  to  all — first  come,  first  served." 
After  a  pause  he  added,  "I  think  it  is  mighty  fine  of 
you  to  undertake  this.  I  don't  know  that  I  ever 
met  a  more  noble-hearted  person  than  you  are,  and 
I  am  going  to  do  all  I  can  to  help." 

Florence  felt  that  she  was  on  thin  ice  again,  and 
Delane  was  going  to  consider  her  rather  too  much 
in  the  front  of  the  Greenvale  scheme.  Here  would 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  159 

lie  her  difficulty  in  whatever  she  would  be  able  to 
accomplish  with  his  aid. 

"I  merely  want  you  to  talk  to  Max,"  she  said, 
"and  tell  him  that  I  am  determined  to  carry  this 
thing  through.  He  need  not  worry  about  the  ex- 
pense involved,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  for  Susan 
Anderton  has  been  wonderful  and  has  offered  to 
pay  the  rent  of  a  little  flat." 

"Susan  is  great,  isn't  she?"  he  ejaculated. 

"Yes ;  I  am  glad  you  appreciate  her." 

"I  certainly  do.  I  have  just  been  over  to  see 
her,  but  left  a  little  sooner  than  I  intended  because 
her  young  man  came  in." 

How  amused,  Florence  thought,  Susan  would  be 
at  this  mention  of  Rothwell  as  her  young  man. 

Suddenly  Delane  said,  "I  suppose  you  see  a  lot 
of  Mr.  Rothwell." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Florence  answered.  "My  brother 
and  I  enjoy  him  very  much." 

"I  wonder  when  he  is  going  back  to  England." 

Florence  did  not  care  to  discuss  Rothwell  with 
Delane  and  made  no  reply  to  this  beyond  a  casual 
"I  don't  know."  There  followed  a  pause,  during 
which  Delane  sat  looking  at  Florence  in  the  rather 
intense  manner  -which  always  had  annoyed  her. 
She  turned  the  conversation  to  other  things,  keep- 
ing her  visitor  remote  from  personalities  until  he 
took  his  departure  somewhat  late  in  the  evening. 

The  result,  however,  of  the  chat  this  night  was 
that  in  less  than  a  month  the  apartment  house  of 
which  Delane  had  spoken  was  completed,  and  Flor- 


160  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ence  and  Susan  were  negotiating  for  one  of  the 
flats  in  it.  Then  Max  was  as  nearly  angry  with 
his  sister  as  he  ever  had  been ;  he  told  her  that  she 
was  attempting  something  wild  and  reckless,  even 
going  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  experiment  with  the 
girls  might  land  her  in  the  police  court,  to  which 
Mrs.  Wainwright  retorted  that  so  long  as  it  landed 
her  and  not  them,  she  would  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain. But  Max  had  little  control  over  the  situation. 
Susan  took  out  the  lease  in  her  own  name,  and  Flor- 
ence went  ahead  with  the  preparation  of  the  place. 
Rothwell  entered  into  Florence's  scheme  with 
great  interest  and  came  frequently  to  see  her 
and  talk  with  her  about  it.  They  went  together  to 
Greenvale  and  helped  to  install  a  certain  Mrs.  Potter 
in  the  flat.  Mrs.  Potter  was  the  widow  of  an  aged 
gardener  who  had  worked  years  before  for  the  Ken- 
dalls, when  they  had  a  country  place  outside  Boston. 
She  now  went  out  sewing,  and  Florence  often  em- 
ployed her  and  for  several  years  had  assumed  a  gen- 
eral oversight  of  her.  She  considered  her  an  ex- 
cellent person  for  the  present  situation,  for  in 
spite  of  being  of  the  strictly  New  England  type,  she 
was  not  inhumanly  rigid  in  her  ideas.  Florence  told 
her  quite  frankly  who  the  girls  were  and  what 
she  hoped  to  do  for  them.  Mrs.  Potter  remarked 
that  she  would  let  the  poor  dears  sew  for  her 
on  the  work  she  "took  out"  to  do  at  home;  that 
certainly  would  amuse  them  and,  according  to  her 
theory,  uplift  them  at  the  same  time.  She  realized 
that  they  were  to  be  allowed  a  certain  amount  of 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  161 

freedom  and  must  never  for  a  moment  suspect  that 
Mrs.  Wainwright  was  trying  to  "make  them  over." 
"They  musn't  know  that  we  are  moralizing  them," 
she  said.  It  was  to  be  merely  a  matter  of  country 
air  and  quiet  for  the  convalescence  of  Tommy, — 
Grade  being  included  on  account  of  her  friend. 

"Yes,"  she  went  on,  "it  will  be  just  like  altering 
an  old  gown.  The  lace  is  shabby,  like  these  girls' 
lives;  but  we  rip  it  off,  put  on  something  fresh  and 
bright,  just  as  I  shall  instill  right  ideas  into  their 
minds,  and  all  is  as  good  as  new." 

Whether  the  transformation  would  be  as  rapid  as 
Mrs.  Potter  imagined  was  somewhat  doubtful  to 
Rothwell,  who  was  much  amused  by  the  good  lady. 

"If  she  does  too  much  ripping,"  he  said  to  Flor- 
ence, "there  will  be  nothing  left  of  her  charges. 
And  do  caution  her  not  to  read  the  Proverbs  out 
loud,  or  the  story  of  Mary  Magdalen." 

Both  he  and  Susan  thought  Florence  had  found 
an  excellent  person  in  Mrs.  Potter.  Susan  had  been 
out  to  the  apartment  several  times  to  arrange  cer- 
tain matters  of  furnishings  which  she  had  most 
generously  undertaken.  During  all  this  time  Max 
preserved  a  stubborn  silence,  occasionally  asking  his 
sister  what  she  expected  would  happen  when  the 
girls  began  to  weary  of  Greenvale. 

"Just  at  present,"  Florence  had  answered,  "there 
is  no  one  in  Greenvale  for  them  to  go  wrong  with, 
even  if  they  are  bored.  As  for  coming  into  town 
in  the  evening,  that  is  the  one  thing  Tommy  is  not 
able  to  do;  and  Gracie  has  agreed  to  watch  out 


162  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

after  her  friend  and  stay  with  her.  She  has  already 
told  me  that  she  is  so  thankful  Tommy  is  alive  and 
so  grateful  to  me  for  sending  her  into  the  country 
that  she  will  do  anything  I  say." 

"All  very  well,"  Max  would  say  to  explanations 
of  this  sort;  "but  you  fail  to  realize  the  difficulties  of 
the  situation." 

"There  isn't  going  to  be  any  situation,"  Flor- 
ence replied,  "not  if  I  know  it." 

"That  is  just  the  trouble,"  her  brother  laughed, 
"of  course  you  won't  know  it." 

The  day  the  girls  were  to  go  into  their  new 
quarters  Florence  took  Gracie  out  on  a  shopping 
expedition  to  buy  a  few  necessaries  in  the  way  of 
clothing,  as  the  small  trunk  at  her  lodgings  had 
disclosed  a  sad  deficiency  in  this  line.  About  noon- 
time they  joined  Tommy  at  the  hospital,  and  found 
her  dressed  and  ready  for  the  trip  to  Greenvale, 
but  looking  very  frail  after  so  many  weeks  in  bed. 
Gracie,  through  Mrs.  Wainwright's  kindness,  had 
bought  her  friend  a  small  silver-topped  tube  of 
smelling  salts,  this  apparently  being  to  her  mind  the 
symbol  of  their  going  to  live  like  ladies  out  of 
town. 

Delane  picked  them  all  up  in  his  car,  Florence 
delaying  the  departure  a  bit  until  she  had  received  a 
telephone  message  from  Rothwell  saying  that  he 
would  not  appear  on  the  scene.  She  could  quite 
get  his  point  that  two  men  arriving  at  the  flat 
with  the  girls  might  start  things  in  rather  a  high 
key,  although  he  had  half  promised  to  be  pres- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  163 

ent  on  "moving  day,"  as  he  styled  this  occasion. 
So  they  went  on  without  him  and  arrived  at  Mrs. 
Potter's  to  find  that  good  woman  hovering  about 
the  kitchen,  preparing  luncheon.  The  girls  were 
so  dazed  by  the  bright  aspect  of  the  apartment,  the 
new  furniture,  the  pretty  curtains,  and  above  all 
by  the  bowl  of  flowers  in  the  middle  of  the  dining- 
room  table,  that  for  a  moment  they  were  speech- 
less. 

"And  we  are  really  to  live  here?"  Tommy  at  last 
exclaimed. 

"Of  course,"  Florence  replied;  "you  are  to  board 
with  Mrs.  Potter,  and  this  is  to  be  your  home  until 
you  get  good  and  strong  and  forget  that  you  ever 
had  a  broken  leg." 

"And  to  think  this  nice  feller's  car  did  the  trick," 
Gracie  said,  smiling  at  Delane. 

"Didn't  I  always  say  it  was  one  of  them  blessings 
in  disguise?"  Tommy  asked,  also  beaming  upon  the 
gentleman  of  the  party.  "Oh,  look  at  the  Victrola; 
ain't  it  wonderful!  I  had  one  once  on  the  install- 
ment plan  but  had  to  send  it  back  because  I  didn't 
pay  up  prompt  enough." 

Susan  Anderton,  in  furnishing  the  apartment,  had 
seen  to  it  that  nothing  was  lacking  to  make  it  at- 
tractive. From  the  gay-colored  sofa  pillows  and 
the  Victrola  in  the  living  room  to  the  pretty  china 
and  glassware  of  the  dining  room,  all  was  quite 
cosey  and  homielike.  When  the  girls  saw  theiir 
bedrooms — one  done  in  pink  and  the  other  in  blue 
— their  delight  was  beyond  expression.  Gracie 


164  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

chose  the  pink  room,  as  that  had  always  been  her 
color  she  said;  while  Tommy  unpacked  her  suit- 
case in  the  blue  room.  "More  restful  for  an  inva- 
lid," was  Mrs.  Potter's  comment.  It  had  been  her 
idea  to  put  the  girls  in  separate  rooms,  occupying  a 
couch  in  the  living  room  herself.  Florence  was  not 
quite  sure  whether  this  was  because  she  wished  to 
stand  guard  at  night  before  the  "outer  door,"  but 
Mrs.  Potter  had  explained  that  it  would  be  better 
for  the  girls  to  sleep  apart  so  that  they  would  not 
talk  through  half  the  night  about  old  ways  and 
days,  which  showed  that  she  was  a  very  practical- 
minded  person  and  perhaps  had  more  keenness  in 
the  matter  of  details  than  Mrs.  Wainwright  herself. 

The  luncheon  was  brought  in  from  the  kitch- 
enette by  Mrs.  Potter,  assisted  by  Delane,  who  had 
put  on  an  apron  for  the  general  amusement.  It  had 
not  been  exactly  Florence's  idea  that  men  should 
be  incorporated  into  this  domestic  scene  at  the  very 
outset;  but  now  that  Delane  was  here  and  had  been 
so  kind  throughout  in  making  this  experiment  pos- 
sible for  her,  there  seemed  nothing  to  do  but  make 
the  best  of  it.  He  certainly  added  to  the  gayety  of 
the  situation,  getting  on  with  the  girls  perhaps  better 
than  either  Mrs.  Potter  or  Florence  would  ever  be 
able  to. 

"Now  pitch  in,"  he  said,  as  he  removed  his  apron 
and  pretended  that  he  was  going  to  use  it  as  a  nap- 
kin. "There's  a  real  homelike  atmosphere  to  this 
place,  so  you  must  just  eat  a  lot  and  get  fat  and  feel 
that  you  belong  right  here  and  can  do  as  you  please." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  165 

"Yes,"  Florence  hastened  to  interrupt,  "I  know 
the  girls  are  going  to  settle  down  here  very  comfort- 
ably with  Mrs.  Potter." 

"I  think  that  rosebud  paper  on  my  room  is 
swell,"  Gracie  said.  "It  beats  the  lilacs  at  Umber's 
all  to  pieces." 

"Have  you  got  any  'jazz'  for  the  Victor?"  Tom- 
my asked. 

"I  am  not  sure  whether  we  have  that  tune,"  Mrs. 
Potter  remarked.  "Miss  Anderton  did  not  bring 
out  many  records;  but  when  I  went  into  town  yes- 
terday I  bought  the  'Maiden's  Prayer.' ' 

"What's  that?"  Gracie  asked.  "One  of  them 
old-fashioned  dances?" 

"It  don't  sound  much  like  a  foxtrot,  I'll  say," 
Delane  laughed. 

"Let's  have  a  tune  while  we  are  eating,"  Gracie 
said,  as  she  started  up  from  the  table  to  set  the 
Victrola  going. 

Florence  wondered  if  Mrs.  Potter  would  have  to 
submit  to  music  with  all  her  meals.  However,  she 
seemed  to  take  to  the  girls  remarkably,  and  sat 
beaming. 

"Say,  ain't  it  great  having  Mr.  Delane  stay  to 
dinner  with  us,"  Gracie  went  on.  Then,  turning 
toward  him,  she  said,  "You  must  come  out  often  to 
see  us.  Just  feel  that  you  can  hang  your  hat  up 
here  whenever  you  like." 

Florence  wished  more  than  ever  that  Rothwell 
were  here  in  place  of  Delane;  for  while  he  would 
not  have  lent  so  much  festivity  to  the  occasion,  with 


166  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

him  quite  such  a  familiar  attitude  on  the  part  of 
the  girls  would  not  have  been  possible.  It  was  all 
very  well  to  have  a  man  about — especially  to  make 
these  girls  contented  at  the  outset  of  things — but  a 
rather  particular  sort  of  man  was  desirable. 

"I  am  a  pretty  busy  person,"  Delane  was  quick  to 
say,  when  he  noticed  Florence  frowning  at  him; 
"and  I  am  afraid  I  can't  be  running  out  here  as 
often  as  I  would  like  to." 

"But  all  this  place  belongs  to  you,  doesn't  it?" 
Tommy  inquired. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Delane  answered.  "But  I  mean  I 
won't  be  able  to  stop  for  social  visits  when  I  am  out 
here  on  business." 

"Tommy  must  be  rather  quiet  for  a  time,"  Flor- 
ence interposed,   "and  it  is  just  as  well  that  she 
should  not  see  many  people  at  present." 

"With  this  dinner  inside  of  me,  I  feel  fine,"  that 
lady  exclaimed,  taking  another  helping  of  oroiled 
ham  and  eggs. 

"But  you  must  remember  what  I  said  the  other 
day,"  Florence  went  on,  "that  to  get  the  full  bene- 
fit of  your  stay  in  Greenvale  you  must  not  over- 
exert yourself." 

"And  she  ought  to  have  a  nap  every  afternoon," 
Mrs.  Potter  added. 

"That  will  seem  natural,"  Tommy  laughed,  "as 
I  always  sleep  most  of  the  daytime." 

Graoie  laughed  loudly  at  this;  quickly  looked  at 
Mrs.  Potter  and  as  quickly  became  absorbed  in  her 
food  again.  From  the  look  of  bewilderment  on 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  167 

Mrs.   Potter's  face,   Gracie  gathered  that  perhaps 
ladies  did  not  sleep  in  the  daytime. 

Florence  .could  see  from  all  this  what  a  difficult 
task  it  was  going  to  be  to  get  the  minds  of  these 
girls  into  a  new  line  of  thought.  Mrs.  Potter,  with 
her  "Maidjen's  Prayjer"  ;and  afternoon  naps  for 
Tommy  and  an  occasional  bit  of  sewing  for  Gracie, 
might  do  much  in  a  certain  way ;  but  how  to  change 
their  general  trend  of  thought,  how  to  bring  a  new 
interest  into  their  lives?  Besides,  whatever  result 
might  be  attained  would  be  offset  by  Delane,  if  he 
felt  that  Suite  Ten  of  the  Gardenside  Apartments 
was  a  place  where  he  could  hang  up  his  hat  when- 
ever he  wished.  Florence  thought  that  he  was  in- 
telligent enough  to  see  quite  as  clearly  as  she  did 
that  too  much  of  him  might  not  be  altogether  good 
for  the  girls  who  had  been  suddenly  removed  from 
a  rather  gay  and  breezy  life.  Both  she  and  Susan 
had  decided  that  a  man  about  the  premises  would 
be  occasionally  necessary.  They  could  hardly  ex- 
pect the  girls  to  feel  much  thrill  at  the  prospect  of  a 
convent  life  with  Mrs.  Potter  as  the  Mother  Super- 
ior. It  was  largely  for  this  reason  that  Hubert 
Rothwell  had  been  incorporated  into  the  scheme  and 
had  been  led  to  take  so  much  interest  in  it.  As 
things  turned  out,  however,  it  appeared  to  be  Delane 
about  whom  the  thoughts  of  the  young  ladies  would 
center.  Florence  would  have  to  wait  to  see  just 
what  their  state  of  mind  was  going  to  be  after  a  few 
days  in  the  new  home.  It  was  rather  too  early  to 
fear  anything  or  to  jump  at  possible  conclusions. 


1 68  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

After  lunch  the  Victrola  was  again  started;  and 
Grade  said  she  would  like  to  have  Mr.  Delane  teach 
her  the  new  steps.  Fortunately  for  Florence's  peace 
of  mind,  he  had  to  get  back  to  work  and  could  not 
stay  any  longer.  He  shook  hands  all  around  and 
hurried  away,  promising  to  come  out  again  and  to 
bring  some  more  records  for  the  talking  machine. 
Tommy  was  persuaded  to  lie  down  for  her  after- 
noon nap;  and  Gracie  helped  to  do  up  the  dinner 
things. 

Florence  could  not  help  noticing  how  awkward 
she  was  about  it.  It  was  not  that  she  did  not  know 
how  to  wash  and  wipe  dishes,  but  she  appeared  too 
casual  about  it  all.  She  laughed  and  talked,  and  her 
mind  seemed  to  be  on  everything  except  what  she 
was  doing.  She  dropped  and  broke  a  teacup,  which 
incident  did  not  embarrass  or  annoy  her.  She  took 
it  rather  as  a  joke,  although  she  did  say  "Damn" 
when  the  cup  broke.  She  asked  Mrs.  Wainwright 
if  she  had  ever  heard  the  old  saying  that  it  was 
a  good  sign  for  a  bride  to  break  something  when 
she  first  moved  into  her  new  home.  Florence  ad- 
mitted complete  ignorance  as  to  the  truth  of  this; 
and  Gracie  went  on  to  explain. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "one  of  the  first  fellers  I 
ever  knew,  Tom  O'leary,  got  hitched  up  with  a 
girl  by  the  name  of  Maggie  Collins.  He  wasn't 
very  soft  on  her,  but  I  guess  he  had  to  marry  her  to 
get  her  out  of  a  scrape.  Some  men  are  that  easy, 
you  know ;  and  when  they  get  next  a  girl  like  Mag- 
gie, who  was  always  whining  and  so  scared  that 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  169 

something  would  happen  to  her, — why,  they  just 
get  hitched,  that's  all.  Well,  they  went  out  to 
Somerville  to  live;  and  when  they  moved  into  their 
flat — my,  but  it  was  a  cute  little  place — the  first  day 
they  was  there  Maggie  dropped  a  glass  bowl  which 
was  one  of  her  wedding  presents.  She  was  mighty 
afraid  Tom  would  come  down  hard  on  her  for  it; 
but  when  Tom  got  home  that  night  and  she  told 
him  about  it,  all  he  said  was,  'Oh,  sure,  my  dear, 
didn't  you  know  that  was  a  good  sign?  There 
couldn't  be  a  better  one  for  a  newly  wedded  pair. 
To  smash  something,  especially  if  it's  china  ware, 
means  we  are  to  have  a  long  life  and  a  gay  one'." 

"And  did  they?"  Florence  asked. 

"Sure  they  did  not,"  Gracie  replied.  "They 
hadn't  been  married  a  year  before  Tom  smashed 
Maggie  up  by  throwing  a  plate  at  her, — and  she  go- 
ing to  have  her  second  kid.  And  then  she  left  him. 
In  spite  of  that,  I've  always  believed  in  signs." 

It  was  perhaps  lucky  that  Mrs.  Potter  was  not  in 
the  kitchen  during  this  edifying  recital  of  Maggie's 
troubles.  When  she  came  back  and  found  the  tea- 
cup broken,  she  said  nothing  beyond  remarking  that 
of  course  accidents  would  happen. 

Then  the  doorbell  rang.  Gracie  listened  through 
the  speaking  tube. 

"It's  a  man,"  she  said.  "He  wants  to  know  if 
Mrs.  Wainwright  is  here." 

"Good  gracious,"  thought  Florence,  "another 
man,  and  so  soon  after  Delane."  She  knew  it  was 
Hubert  and  decided  he  must  not  come  up.  She 


i;o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

called  down  the  tube  and  said  that  she  would  be  right 
down,  and  asked  him  to  wait. 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  him.  Tell  him  to  come  up," 
Grade  urged,  standing  at  Florence's  side.  "You're 
lucky  to  have  so  many  men  friends,"  she  went  on. 
"I'll  bet  he  is  good  looking." 

Florence  had  to  say  something  and  explained  that 
it  was  some  one  to  see  her  on  business — her  brother's 
land  agent — that  he  was  going  to  show  her  some  new 
flats  in  Greenvale.  The  important  thing  now  seemed 
to  be  to  get  away  before  Hubert  should  arrive  at  the 
door.  He  was  much  too  attractive  and  would  be  far 
too  nice  to  Gracie  for  Florence  not  to  feel  some  un- 
easiness in  the  situation. 

Before  she  left,  Florence  took  Gracie  aside  and 
told  her  briefly  how  her  life  would  be  arranged  while 
she  was  at  Greenvale. 

"Mrs.  Potter  is  a  seamstress,"  she  said,  "and  she 
has  work  to  do  at  home.  I  am  sure  you  can  be  a 
good  deal  of  help  to  her.  I  just  wish,  as  I  told  you 
before,  that  you  would  not  think  of  going  into  town 
for  a  few  weeks.  Tommy  really  needs  your  care, 
and  Mrs.  Potter  hasn't  the  time  to  look  out  for  her." 

"Dbn't  you  worry,  dearie,  about  me  not  taking 
care  of  Tommy,"  Gracie  answered.  "Many  a 
scrape  she's  got  me  out  of,  and  I'll  stand  by  her  now, 
if  I  never  see  town  again." 

"That's  fine,"  Florence  exclaimed.  "You  stand 
by  Tommy,  and  I  will  stand  by  you;  then  we  shall 
all  come  out  right  in  the  end." 

Her  parting  advice  to  Mrs.  Potter  was  to  let  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  171 

girls  play  the  Victrola  as  much  as  they  liked  and 
not  to  read  aloud  to  them. 

Hubert,  in  the  hallway  below,  was  disappointed 
that  he  had  not  been  allowed  a  glimpse  of  the  girls  in 
their  retreat,  as  he  called  the  flat. 

"You  would  have  been  all  right  in  place  of 
Delane, — but  the  two  of  you  both  in  the  same 
day  was  rather  a  large  order,"  Florence  laughed. 
"Whatever  made  you  come  out?" 

"To  go  back  to  town  with  you,"  Rothwell  replied. 

"And  rescue  me  from  the  other  gentleman,  I 
suppose.  But  he  has  left  already,  so  you  are  too  late 
for  that." 

"But  not  too  late  to  see  you." 

"Shall  we  walk?"  Florence  asked,  as  they  came 
out  into  the  main  road  where  the  trolley  ran. 

It  was  agreed  that  they  would  walk  part  way  back 
to  town.  As  they  chatted  on  the  way  and  stopped 
on  the  side  of  a  hill  where  the  distant  spires  and 
domes  of  the  city  showed  through  an  opening, 
Florence  felt  that  this  was  a  very  pleasant  ending 
to  a  somewhat  strenuous  day.  She  had  again  that 
same  feeling  of  repose  with  Rothwell  which  she  had 
noticed  so  often  before ;  the  feeling  that  comes  from 
the  companionship  of  some  one  who  is  perfectly 
congenial,  with  whom  one  may  be  talkative  or  silent 
as  the  mood  suggests.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they 
walked  on  for  a  long  distance  in  silence ;  and  Flor- 
ence could  not  but  wonder  what  her  friend  was 
thinking  about.  Not  of  me,  I  am  sure,  she  thought. 

Her  thought  was  probably  correct,  for  Rothwell 


172  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

suddenly  said,  "I  suppose  you  have  reckoned  on 
what  a  big  item  your  food  bill  out  here  is  going  to 
be,  with  everything  so  dear." 

Florence  laughed.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  have  tried 
to  take  all  that  into  account;  but  with  Susan's  aid, 
I  think  I  can  foot  the  bills  until  I  see  how  my  plan 
is  going  to  work  out." 

"You're  a  brick  to  do  it.  I  am  most  awfully 
interested,"  Hubert  remarked. 

Florence  was  at  Susan's  the  next  evening  to  tell 
her  about  the  happenings  of  the  preceding  day. 

"The  start  seems  to  have  been  first  rate,"  Miss 
Anderton  said.  "But  keep  Delane  off  the  scene. 
Of  course  you  couldn't  shake  him  yesterday;  but  tell 
him  how  you  feel  about  the  question  of  male  com- 
panionship for  the  girls." 

"I  don't  want  to  offend  him." 

"Don't  worry  about  that.  Just  let  him  know 
that  he  is  to  disappear  so  far  as  your  part  in  Green- 
vale  is  concerned." 

"You  would  not  place  the  same  injunction  upon 
Hubert?"  Florence  asked. 

"Oh,  no ;  he  doesn't  need  it,"  Susan  was  quick  to 
answer. 

She  was  getting  ready  to  leave  town  for  the  sum- 
mer. It  was  late  June  and  quite  time  for  a  lady 
of  Miss  Anderton's  nomadic  habits  to  become  a  part 
of  the  annual  migration  from  the  city.  She  had 
taken  a  small  house  on  the  South  Shore  and  said 
that  she  expected  Florence  to  come  down  often  to 
see  her. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  173 

"And  Hubert, — what  will  you  do  with  him?" 
Florence  asked. 

"Oh,  he  will  stay  here,"  Susan  returned;  "at  any 
rate,  so  long  as  you  are  in  town." 

That  was  all  very  pleasant  for  Florence ;  especially 
as  it  was  somewhat  indefinite  whether  she  would  get 
away  at  all  during  the  summer.  Certain  things 
were  coming  up  in  connection  with  her  settlement 
house  work  which  required  her  attention ;  and  then 
she  did  not  care  for  the  present  to  be  too  far  away 
from  Mrs.  Potter's  establishment.  Max,  too,  was 
likely  to  be  very  busy  and  disliked  the  idea  of  com- 
muting. They  would  probably  keep  the  Marl- 
borough  Street  house  open  and  get  off  for  the  week- 
ends as  frequently  as  possible. 

"Have  you  seen  the  girls  to-day?"  Susan  asked. 

"Yes ;  I  was  out  there  this  morning.  They  are  as 
happy  as  can  be.  Tommy  was  working  on  a  waist 
for  Mrs.  Potter,  and  Gracie  was  spending  hours 
manicuring  her  nails  and  shampooing  her  hair. 
Mrs.  Potter  likes  them  both,  but  says  Tommy  has 
the  best  disposition." 

Just  then  the  telephone  bell  rang,  and  Susan 
went  into  the  next  room  to  answer  it.  She  came 
back  in  a  moment  to  say  that  Mrs.  Potter  was  on  the 
line  and  that  Florence  would  better  talk  with  her. 
Through  a  rather  jumbled  and  wordy  explanation 
it  appeared  that  Gracie  had  gone  out  about  seven 
o'clock  to  buy  some  candy  for  Tommy  and  had  not 
returned.  It  was  then  about  ten,  and  poor  Mrs. 
Potter,  by  the  tone  of  her  voice,  was  evidently  in  a 


174  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

state  of  acute  agitation.  She  had  purposely  not 
called  Florence,  she  said,  for  fear  the  news  would 
disturb  her, — apparently  believing  that  Miss  Ander- 
ton  would  know  exactly  what  to  do  in  the  situation. 

"But  what  will  you  do?"  that  lady  asked. 

"Nothing  at  all,  just  now,"  Florence  replied 
quite  calmly.  "Ten  o'clock  is  not  such  a  dreadfully 
late  hour  of  the  night." 

"I  should  say  any  hour  was  late  for  those  young 
women  in  their  present  circumstances,"  Susan  re- 
joined. After  a  moment  she  added,  "This  may  be 
the  blowing  up  of  our  Greenvale  bubble." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  Florence  exclaimed  vehe- 
mently. "What  if  there  is  a  slip  or  two  at  the 
first?  Do  you  think_that  will  scare  me  off  from  my 
efforts?  Would  you  have  me  throw  up  my  hands 
in  shocked  amazement  and  beat  a  hasty  retreat?" 

"But  then,  you  know,"  Susan  interrupted,  "you 
can  scarcely  stand  by  and  look  on  while — " 

"Don't  we  all  look  on  at  things  every  day  of  our 
lives?"  Florence  continued.  "Isn't  it  one  of  the 
stunts  of  life  to  see  how  well  we  can  do  it?  Per- 
haps the  higher  we  go  in  the  social  scale,  the  more 
we  have  to  look  on  at  and  excuse;  or,  to  be  thor- 
oughly modern,  merely  smile  at  and  tolerate.  No, 
my  dear  Susan,  in  the  case  of  these  girls,  I  shall  look 
on  at  many  things  until  I  have  made  every  effort  to 
save  them." 

"You  are  superb,"  was  all  Susan  said. 


CHAPTER  XI 

In  the  matter  of  Gracie's  disappearance  there  was 
nothing  that  Florence  had  to  look  on  at  or  see 
through,  as  Mrs.  Potter  later  came  forward  with  the 
explanation  that  Gracie  had  merely  gone  out  to  the 
corner  druggist  to  eat  an  ice  cream,  and  finding  the 
air  of  the  warm  summer  night  very  much  to  her 
fancy,  had  taken  a  stroll  around  several  of  the 
newly  built  houses  of  Greenvale.  Perhaps,  as  Mrs. 
Potter  said,  the  poor  dear  had  got  lost  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  half-finished  streets, — the  general  openness 
of  the  district  being  something  of  a  wilderness  to 
ithe  good  woman's  vision,  which  heretofore  had 
sfeldom  ranged  beyond  the  closely  settled  streets 
of  Charlestown,  her  former  residence.  The  only 
thing  that  interested  Florence  was  that  Gracie  had 
come  back.  At  this  early  date  she  did  not  wish  to 
play  the  spy  upon  her  slightest  movements;  and  it 
seemed  quite  likely  that  the  girl  was  telling  the 
truth  and  had  merely  gone  for  a  walk.  However, 
she  felt  it  advisable  to  run  out  to  Greenvale 
the  next  morning  to  see  the  girls,  and  in  an  aside 
told  Mrs.  Potter  not  to  "poor  dear"  them  too  much; 
but,  putting  all  sentiment  by,  to  look  upon  them  as 
two  perfectly  normal  young  persons. 

Susan  was  off  to  the  shore  that  day,  and  Flor- 


1 76  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ence  got  back  to  town  in  time  to  say  good-by. 
Miss  Anderton  announced  that  she  was  planning  a 
picnic  for  the  following  Saturday  as  a  sort  of  wel- 
come to  the  Greenvale  clan  in  the  little  house  she 
had  rented  for  the  summer.  This  all  seemed  very 
delightful  to  Florence,  and  she  promised  to  bring 
Max  down  on  the  early  train  Saturday. 

"Delane  and  his  sister  are  to  spend  Sunday  with 
me,"  Susan  flung  out  as  a  parting  word. 

"You  are  incorrigible,"  Florence  exclaimed. 
"However,  it  is  your  house  and  your  party.  I  hope 
you  enjoy  them." 

"I  should  not  ask  them,  if  I  didn't  expect  to," 
Susan  retorted. 

"But  the  odd  part  is,"  Florence  went  on,  "that 
you  didn't  like  that  sort  of  people  in  the  old  times." 

"I  have  knocked  about  in  Europe  with  far  com- 
moner people  than  the  Delane  brood,1'  Susan  re- 
plied; "but  over  there  one  was  so  often  taken  in 
by  them  because  they  usually  had  titles  hanging  on 
their  names." 

The  Saturday  appointed  for  the  picnic  was  a 
splendid  day;  and  Florence  and  Max  went  down  by 
train,  the  Delanes  having  descended  upon  Susan  in 
their  motor  the  night  before.  Of  course  it  was  a 
great  event  for  Nora, — a  week-end  at  a  South  Shore 
house;  and  when  Florence  discovered  her  on  the 
porch,  in  a  sky-blue  dress  and  rose-covered  hat, 
she  really  looked  as  though  she  were  doing  her  ut- 
most to  live  up  to  the  situation.  Delane  was  lying 
in  a  Gloucester  hammock  with  a  glass  of  iced  tea 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  177 

by  his  side.  He  came  forward  smiling  to  greet 
Mrs.  Wainwright  and  her  brother,  with  rather  the 
appearance  of  feeling  that  as  house  guest  he  must 
do  some  of  the  honors  of  host.  Hubert  was  off 
somewhere  to  fetch  Constance  Floyd  and  her  friend 
Mortimer  Otis,  the  latter  being  a  young  gentleman 
who  was  spending  the  week-end  at  the  Floyd  cottage 
not  far  away. 

"Isn't  this  a  tip-top  day  for  a  lark,"  Susan  ex- 
claimed, showing  Florence  about  the  house,  "And 
isn't  this  a  wee  dove  of  a  house?" 

Delane  was  at  their  heels,  putting  in  a  word  here 
and  there  about  the  views  from  the  various  win- 
dows; and  when  the  dining  room  was  reached,  in- 
sisting that  Florence  should  have  something  to  drink, 
Susan's  somewhat  diminished  supply  of  the  banished 
spirits  having  been  considerably  increased  by  what 
Delane  brought  down  with  him. 

"You  know  Miss  Anderton  makes  just  the  love- 
liest drinks  that  ever  were,"  Nora  called  in  from 
the  verandah. 

About  one  o'clock  the  picnic  basket  was  ready; 
and  the  little  party  proceeded  to  a  group  of  fir  trees 
on  the  edge  of  the  rocks.  It  was  cool  there,  with 
a  delightful  breeze  blowing  in  from  the  sea;  and  far 
away  could  be  seen  what  was  probably  an  ocean 
steamer  bound  for  Europe. 

"Doesn't  that  make  you  want  to  go  home  ?"  Susan 
asked  Rothwell. 

"Not  when  I  am  in  such  pleasant  company  as 
this,"  he  answered;  and  then  went  on,  laughing, 


178  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"you  know  this  good  lady  really  wants  to  get  rid 
of  me.  She  has  been  trying  all  winter,  and  I  am 
sure  when  the  summer  came  along  she  thought 
nothing  could  keep  me  away  from  England  in  the 
month  of  roses.  But  I  just  won't  go,  and  she 
might  as  well  make  up  her  mind  to  it  now  or  never." 

Florence  looked  up  quickly  at  him  as  he  said  this 
and  wondered  what  was  really  keeping  him  so  long 
in  America.  Certainly  Susan,  having  definitely  re- 
fused him,  could  not  be  the  reason;  but  if  it  were 
herself,  he  gave  little  enough  indication  of  it.  It 
made  her  very  happy  to  be  here  with  him  in  the 
open  on  this  fine  summer  day,  and  what  was  to  her 
the  rather  distracting  presence  of  Delane  and  his 
sister  could  in  no  way  dampen  her  good  time. 

The  food  was  delicious ;  cold  chicken,  sandwiches 
of  every  known  variety,  and  rarest  of  all  luxuries, 
a  couple  of  bottles  of  champagne,  which  were 
brought  down  from  the  house  in  ice  by  a  boy  Susan 
was  to  employ  about  the  place  and  whom  she  called 
her  "general  man."  Nora,  perhaps  because  she  had 
been  tipped  off  by  Delane  not  to  talk  too  much,  was 
unusually  quiet,  rrterely  bursting  forth  occasion- 
ally to  admire  the  South  Shore  scenery,  of  which 
she  assumed  an  intimate  knowledge,  but  which  she 
really  knew  very  little  beyond  the  long  stretches  of 
Nantasket  Beach.  Delane  made  up  for  his  sister's 
silence  by  talking  a  great  deal;  and  sitting  on  a 
mossy  rock  just  above  and  behind  Florence,  handed 
things  down  to  her  from  the  basket  in  what  he 
considered  his  most  cavalier-like  manner.  It  was 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  179 

really  very  amusing  to  her,  as  Hubert  sat  just  op- 
posite, and  it  did  not  much  matter  who  passed  her 
the  food. 

"Do  you  know,"  Delane  said,  in  the  midst  of  dis- 
secting a  chicken  wing,  "that  sometimes  I  get  very 
jealous,  Susan,  of  your  European  friends." 

"How  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"Well,  because  they  had  you  so  many  years,  and 
we  poor  mortals  over  here  are  just  discovering  you. 
You're  a  grand  sort." 

This  was  rather  prettily  said,  and  of  course  Max 
approved  of  it,  as  it  showed  his  partner  in  the  best 
light.  He  looked  over  at  Florence  as  much  as  to 
say,  "Now  you  see,  this  fellow  is  a  gentleman,  after 
all." 

But  Florence  had  eyes  only  for  Hubert  and  the 
deep  blue  sea  beyond.  He  seemed  so  much  a  part 
of  this  scene  in  the  bright  sunny  day.  His  black 
hair  blowing  in  the  breeze,  his  soft  shirt  and  flannels 
so  casually  worn,  were  all  delightful  to  her.  The 
sleeves  of  his  shirt  were  rolled  up,  and  his  arms, 
slightly  tanned,  were  strong  and  muscular  like  those 
of  a  rower  or  tennis  player.  Florence  watched  his 
hands  and  the  finely  shaped  fingers  as  he  opened  a 
sandwich  and  smiled  quietly  when  he  found  it  was 
the  kind  he  wanted.  The  wind  caught  his  hair  and 
blew  it  about  his  forehead,  his  head  being  clearly 
defined  against  the  blue  of  the  water.  It  was  all 
so  fine  and  clear, — so  like  the  man,  all  strength  and 
simplicity.  And  he  was  cold,  cold  as  the  sea;  that 
was  the  whole  trouble. 


i8o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

After  they  had  all  been  eating  steadily  for  some 
time,  although  very  little  food  had  really  been  con- 
sumed to  judge  by  the  still  heaped-up  basket — it 
seems  always  at  picnics  that  one's  guests  eat  so  dis- 
couragingly  little  of  the  vast  amount  of  things  pro- 
vided— the  boy  appeared  again,  this  time  bringing 
a  punch  bowl  of  ice  cream. 

"Ice  cream  at  a  picnic!"  Nora  Delane  cried. 
"That  certainly  is  going  some." 

Miss  Floyd  and  her  friend  Otis,  slightly  dis- 
gruntled by  the  presence  of  the  Delanes,  had  betaken 
themselves  to  a  flat  rock  somewhat  removed  from 
the  rest  of  the  party;  and  there,  in  duet  fashion, 
had  carried  on  a  conversation  with  much  merriment 
throughout  the  proceedings.  However,  at  Nora's 
ecstasies  over  the  ice  cream,  Miss  Floyd  saw  fit  to 
remark  that  ice  cream  had  been  quite  the  last  word 
at  picnics  for  several  seasons  and  related  how  her 
mother  had  startled  the  South  Shore  colony  by 
serving  a  full-course  dinner  on  the  rocks. 

"It  must  have  been  confoundedly  hard  to  navigate 
soup  sitting  on  a  wobbly  rock,"  Delane  spoke  up, 
at  which  every  one  laughed;  and  the  Floyd-Otis 
combination  returned  to  its  duet. 

The  sun  was  slanting  through  the  fir  trees  and 
a  brisk  breeze  blowing  in  from  the  sea.  People 
stood  up  and  moved  about;  the  men  lighted  their 
pipes.  Florence  and  Hubert  wandered  down  to  a 
flat  stretch  of  sand  at  the  bottom  of  the  cliffs  and 
found  themselves  soon  followed  by  Delane  and  his 
sister.  In  a  general  conversation  about  swimming 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  181 

and  other  out-of-door  things,  Rothwell  mentioned 
the  fact  that  he  preferred  tennis  to  golf,  and  dis- 
covered that  Nora  played  tennis  and  was  rather  keen 
about  it. 

"Let's  go  up  and  have  a  game,"  he  exclaimed. 
"The  court  at  the  house  is  in  first-rate  condition. 
Do  you  play?"  he  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Wainwright. 

"I  used  to,"  Florence  replied;  "but,  like  dancing, 
my  tennis  is  very  seedy." 

Nora,  feeling  that  she  had  captured  the  English- 
man for  the  afternoon,  was  intent  upon  returning 
to  the  house;  and  Rothwell,  as  he  loved  the  game 
and  was  really  a  crack  player,  hurried  up  over  the 
cliffs  with  Miss  Delane,  supposing  that  Florence 
and  Delane  would  follow. 

"I  will  come  up  later  and  watch  you,"  she  called 
out  to  the  retreating  figures. 

Delane,  stepping  out  to  the  edge  of  the  water  until 
the  waves  lapped  his  shoes,  looked  along  the  coast. 
Farther  down  was  a  small  bay  and  leading  to  it  a 
kind  of  rocky  path.  There  was  a  pebbly  beach 
in  the  curve  of  the  bay  shut  in  on  both  sides  and 
overhung  by  evergreens. 

"Let's  walk  on  a  bit,"  he  said.  "There's  an  aw- 
fully pretty  place  just  beyond." 

Florence  had  been  thinking  of  many  things  as  she 
sat  there  with  Delane  slowly  moving  across  her 
horizon  on  the  sands.  If  he  were  always  to  be  in 
the  perspective  of  her  life,  she  wondered  if  it  would 
not  be  just  as  well  to  let  him  come  to  whatever  point 
he  had  in  view  in  connection  with  her.  It  had 


182  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

seemed  absurd  when  Susan  told  her  that  he  had  a 
"crush"  on  her.  And  yet  in  her  experiences  with 
him  during  the  past  few  weeks,  at  Greenvale  and 
now  here  at  the  shore,  he  had  shown  such  a  con- 
tinued and  apparent  interest  in  her  that  Florence,  far 
from  being  annoyed,  was  beginning  to  be  curious. 
There  was  something  a  little  pathetic  in  his  dog- 
like  devotion  to  her;  the  way  he  looked  at  her  and 
listened  to  her  every  word.  As  her  brother's  friend, 
surely  she  could  speak  plainly  to  him  without  fear 
of  wounding  if  his  interest  in  her  were  really  of 
the  sentimental  sort,  as  Susan  would  have  her  be- 
lieve. 

"Yes,  let's  go  along  to  that  nice  bay,"  she  said 
suddenly,  jumping  up.  "I  should  like  the  walk." 

This  pleased  Delane  immensely,  and  they  started 
out  across  the  uneven  rocky  path,  Delane  helping 
Florence  a  number  of  times  over  pools  of  water. 
If  ever,  deep  in  his  soul,  he  had  had  some  vision  of 
bliss,  it  was  pictured  now  in  the  emotions  he  felt 
in  the  midst  of  this  scene.  All  that  he  had  thought 
about  during  the  past  months  and  the  desire  for  her 
he  had  felt  could  be  held  down  no  longer;  and 
when  they  finally  reached  the  pebbly  beach  beneath 
the  overhanging  trees,  Delane's  face  was  flushed  and 
his  heart  beating  with  the  strongest  emotion  he  had 
ever  known.  Suddenly,  the  natural  curiosity  that 
Florence  had  felt  in  the  situation  and  all  her  won- 
derment at  Delane  were  gone.  She  knew  at  once 
where  she  stood  and  what  her  relation  to  this  man 
was  going  to  be.  She  did  not  have  to  be  told  that 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  183 

she  was  loved,  as  she  perceived  and  could  actually 
feel  the  burning  warmth  of  his  passion. 

She  wanted  for  a  moment  to  run  away,  up  over 
the  cliffs  or  back  across  the  rocky  path.  But  that 
would  be  childish;  for  she  knew  she  had  purposely 
led  him  on  to  find  out  on  what  ground  they  were 
to  face  each  other.  That  there  would  be  from  now 
on  a  positive  ground  of  approach  between  them 
Florence  could  not  doubt.  And  whether  this  were 
to  be  smooth  and  flat  like  some  pleasant  meadow 
where  flowers  grow  and  where  everything  is  seen 
clearly,  or  whether  it  would  be  a  place  of  high  rocks 
and  ridges,  across  which  they  could  see  each  other 
only  with  difficulty,  was  the  question.  Certainly, 
in  view  of  her  brother's  relation  to  Delane,  Flor- 
ence would  have  to  use  her  best  insight  in  the  matter 
to  make  the  way  as  soft  as  possible  for  her  protag- 
onist. The  whole  business  in  which  she  found 
herself  seemed  of  a  sudden  very  large  and  importu- 
nate, as  Delane  stood  before  her,  outlined  in  all  his 
rugged  health,  big  against  the  sparkling  sea. 

It  was  impossible  for  Florence  to  measure  in  any 
way  this  man's  conception  of  her.  It  had  been  a 
thing  of  such  slow  growth  and  yet  so  insistent  in 
his  consciousness  from  the  first  time  he  had  beheld 
her,  that  probably  Delane  himself  had  been  unaware 
until  this  moment  of  the  strength  of  his  passion. 
He  had  long  known  that  he  was  deeply  in  love  with 
Mrs.  Wainwright ;  he  had  long  hoped  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  her.  But  his  connection  with  her 
had  been  really  so  slight,  as  far  as  the  intimacies 


184  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

of  life  go — so  little  approaching  even  to  the  plane 
of  a  happy  comradeship — that  he  had  felt  like  a 
man  lost  to  himself;  like  one  who  possesses  infinite 
treasure  but  has  no  way  of  enjoying  his  wealth. 
All  through  those  days  soon  after  he  first  met  Flor- 
ence, when  Max  noted  his  moodiness  and  absent- 
mindedness;  and  later  when  he  came  into  closer 
connection  with  her  through  the  matter  of  Tommy's 
accident  and  the  Greenvale  affair,  he  had  expected 
there  might  be  some  closer  understanding,  some  sign 
given,  arising  from  their  mutual  interests.  But 
there  had  been  nothing.  Florence  was  always  the 
dim  object  of  his  desire,  hovering  night  and  day 
like  a  dream  figure  on  the  edge  of  the  realities  of 
life.  So  his  love  had  grown  stronger,  and  like 
plants  that  push  long  roots  into  the  earth,  showing 
only  a  suggestion  of  their  vigor  in  the  few  green 
leaves  above  the  soil,  Delane's  love  had  burrowed 
silently  and  was  encircling  his  heart  with  innumer- 
able tendrils;  while  on  the  surface  of  his  life  there 
was  no  indication  of  the  thing  which  had  gone  down 
deep,  deep  into  his  soul. 

Florence  leaned  against  the  mossy  bank  to  rest 
a  moment  after  the  walk  along  the  rocks.  Delane, 
looking  at  her  silently,  took  a  few  steps  away  and 
turned  his  back  on  her.  Suddenly  he  lifted  his 
hands  high  above  his  head,  and  with  something  that 
sounded  like  a  low  moan,  turned  quickly  and  came 
over  to  where  Florence  was. 

"Mrs.  Wainwright,"  he  began,  "you  have  never 
really  known  me,  have  you?  You  have  never  tried 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  185 

to  find  out  what  sort  of  a  person  I  am.  It  has 
always  seemed  as  though  you  did  not  want  to  know. 
Perhaps  you  haven't  liked  me;  but  you  have  been 
awfully  nice  to  me, — but  may  be  that  was  only  be- 
cause you  tried  to  be." 

Florence  winced  a  little  at  the  truth  of  this. 
Delane  did  not  notice  it  and  was  speaking  again, 
more  rapidly  than  before. 

"But  I  don't  care  what  you  have  thought  of  me, 
how  much  you  have  not  liked  me.  I  want  you  to 
know — you  have  got  to  know — that  I  love  you." 

Florence  moved  away  from  out  of  the  shadow 
of  the  cliff,  and,  smiling  slightly,  stood  very  erect 
before  Delane  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"I  have  loved  you  since  the  first  time  I  met  you  at 
your  brother's, — that  night  when  you  were  so  nice  to 
me.  Very  few  people  in  the  world  have  been  kind 
to  me ;  and  when  you  were  so  good  and  made  things 
so  smooth  for  me,  scared  and  shy  as  I  was  like  a 
young  heifer, — well,  I  fell  for  you  then  and  there. 
And  since  that  time  the  thought  of  you  has  been  in 
everything  I  have  done ;  and  your  face  has  been  be- 
fore me  and  the  longing  for  you  in  my  blood,  until, 
God  above  us! — you  must  know  it  all  and  let  me 
speak  out  the  love  that's  in  me." 

Florence  was  standing  now  in  the  open,  with  her 
eyes  looking  out  to  the  sea,  and  the  sunlight  that 
came  through  the  trees  at  the  top  of  the  cliff  just 
touching  her  hair  and  the  back  of  her  neck.  De- 
lane  came  nearer  to  her. 

"Don't  think  that  I  love  you  with  any  conven- 


1 86  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

tional,  stupid  kind  of  love  where  a  man  asks  a 
woman  to  be  his  wife  in  the  intermission  of  a 
dance,  and  then  after  they  are  married  dresses  her 
up  like  a  pretty  doll  and  shows  the  world  how  much 
money  he  can  spend  on  her;  but  if  she  displeases 
him  in  any  way,  it's  all  over,  and  he  is  off  to  the 
next  beauty  who  is  willing  to  be  his  pet.  I  love 
you  in  the  good,  old-fashioned  way, — the  only  way 
that  real  love  can  be  spelled;  and  if  they  can  find 
a  better  kind  with  their  divorces  and  childless  mar- 
riages, let  them  find  it.  It  is  not  for  such  as  me. 
Here  we  are  by  the  sea,  with  the  wind  off  the  waves 
in  our  ears,  and  in  my  heart  your  beauty.  That  is 
the  love  I  have  for  you,  dear  Florence, — a  big  out- 
of-door  love  that  the  sound  of  all  the  oceans  in  the 
world  could  not  drown." 

Taking  Florence's  hand,  he  said  very  low  and 
huskily,  "Look  at  me,  look  at  me.  Give  me  some 
word  that  I  have  made  you  feel  what  I  do.  Let  me 
go  on  loving  you;  let  me  make  you  happy;  be  mine." 

If  Florence  had  not  stepped  away  quickly  at  this 
moment,  Delane  would  have  seized  her,  as  his  arms 
were  almost  about  her.  She  was  now  very  near  the 
edge  of  the  water;  her  cheeks  were  burning,  and  her 
eyes  aflame.  She  was  not  angry,  but  frightened. 

"Please  stop,"  was  all  that  she  could  say  to  De- 
lane,  as  he  stood  somewhat  taken  by  surprise  at  her 
evident  attempt  to  get  away  from  him.  There  was 
a  very  terrible  expression  on  his  face,  almost  of 
anguish,  as  though  he  feared  the  worst  to  be  true, 
and  that  Florence  felt  a  physical  repugnance  to  him. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  187 

"You  will  hear  me — you  must  hear  me!"  he 
gasped  out. 

"Rease,"  Florence  began  again,  finding  it  diffi- 
cult to  speak,  "I  don't  wish  to  hear  any  more. 
That  you  love  me  as  you  say  you  do,  I  cannot  help. 
It  is  one  of  those  things  over  which  neither  you  nor 
I  have  any  power.  I  am  old  enough  to  understand 
all  you  say.  On  my  part,  I  can  only  answer  that  I 
am  very  sorry." 

"You  mean — you  mean — there  is  no  hope  ?"  De- 
lane  interrupted,  still  keeping  his  distance  from  her. 

"I  mean  that  while  you  have  bowled  me  over  by 
what  you  have  just  told  me,  I  feel  glad  that  you 
have  come  out  openly  with  it  all.  To  me — how 
shall  I  express  it — to  me — " 

But  whatever  she  was  going  to  say  was  broken 
into  and  stopped  by  cries  from  the  cliff  above  of 
"Florence,  Florence — Jim,  where  are  you?  Tea  is 
being  served  on  the  verandah,  and  you  must  come 
back  at  once." 

"Damn!"  Jim  ejaculated  and  sank  down  on  the 
nearest  rock,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Susan,  who  had  lingered  in  the  picnic  group 
with  Miss  Floyd,  Max,  and  Otis,  had  not  seen 
Nora  and  Rothwell  when  they  pursued  their  way 
to  the  house  by  a  different  path  from  the  one  they 
had  taken  down  to  the  beach.  Hence,  when  some- 
what later  Susan  and  her  little  group  started  home, 
and  she  spied  Hubert  and  Miss  Delane  hard  at  ten- 
nis and  was  told  by  them  that  they  had  left  the 
others  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff — the  others  being 


i88  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

what  was  for  Miss  Anderton  the  terrifying  combi- 
nation of  Florence  and  Jim — she  hurried  back  to 
the  edge  of  the  rocks  and,  glancing  down  distract- 
edly here  and  there  to  the  places  where  she  thought 
they  might  be,  had  at  last  caught  sight  of  Florence. 

The  cry  was  really  a  welcome  one, — at  least  to 
Florence;  although  later  she  wished  she  had  had 
time  to  indicate  more  definitely  to  Delane  what  his 
attitude  must  be  toward  her  and  in  what  light  she 
would  have  to  look  upon  him  hereafter.  On  the 
way  up  to  the  house  she  did  have  a  chance  to  say 
that  she  should  not  mention  to  her  brother  a  word  of 
what  had  happened.  She  felt  he  would  be  angry 
if  he  knew,  and  that  she  would  do  almost  anything 
rather  than  embarrass  the  good  relations  existing 
between  Max  and  Delane. 

"You  may  trust  me,"  she  added,  "to  act  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred  between  us." 

"How  about  Susan?"  Delane  asked. 

"I  don't  see  that  Susan  comes  into  the  matter," 
Florence  replied. 

But  Susan  did  come  into  the  matter,  just  as  she 
was  bound  to  come  into  all  matters,  whether  near  or 
remote  to  her.  After  Max  and  Florence  had  left 
that  evening  for  town  and  Miss  Nora  Delane  had 
retired  to  her  chamber  to  revel  in  the  latest  popular 
novel,  propped  up  in  bed  under  the  rays  of  a  charm- 
ing pink  drop-lamp,  Delane  alone  with  Susan  on 
the  moonlit  porch  unburdened  himself  as  perhaps 
he  had  never  done  before.  It  was  as  though  it  did 
not  count  what  he  said  or  how  far  he  disclosed  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  189 

state  of  his  heart,  now  that  he  had  shown  his  cards 
to  Florence. 

"I  probably  should  not  have  gone  so  far,"  he 
said,  after  telling  Susan  in  some  detail  of  the  scene 
on  the  beach. 

"But  I  don't  see  that  you  did  go  far,"  Susan 
returned.  "You  were  certainly  the  gentleman 
throughout." 

"Yes,"  Delane  went  on  gloomily;  ."but  it  wasn't 
because  I  wished  to  be.  There  are  times  when  a 
person  would  like  to  be  anything  but  a  gentleman." 

Susan  made  a  little  movement  of  deprecation 
which  did  not  escape  him. 

"I  mean  there  are  times  when  a  fellow  would 
like  to  say  his  whole  mind,  or  rather,  act  it,  if  that 
expresses  better  the  idea;  and  when  it  drives  you 
mad  to  feel  that  you  are  hedged  about  with  all  the 
conventionalities  of  life." 

"You  are  an  admirable  soul,  Delane,"  Susan  in- 
terrupted. "I  only  wish  that  the  girl  you  would 
like  to  walk  off  with  were  not  Florence.  She's  not 
the  sort  to  be  kidnapped." 

"It  was  beautiful  down  there  by  the  water,"  Jim 
continued,  not  heeding  this.  "And  the  girl  I  love 
standing  there  with  the  light  blowing  in  her  hair ;  the 
sound  of  the  waves  over  us  and  love  singing  in  my 
heart.  I  had  to  speak;  I  had  to  tell  Florence  what 
she  has  come  to  mean  to  me.  And  she  was  cold 
and  afraid,  and  moved  away  from  me."  After  a 
pause  he  added  slowly,  "Then  she  told  me  to  stop; 
and  made  a  pretty,  civil  little  speech  and  said  that 


190  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

no  one  should  know  of  what  had  passed  between  us. 
It  was  as  though  the  whole  transaction  had  been 
something  criminal,  and  I  was  trying  to  steal  her 
away  across  the  deep  blue  sea  in  a  boat,  like  the  old- 
time  stories." 

"Florence,  I  am  sure,  was  surprised  rather  than 
made  afraid  by  what  you  said,"  Susan  put  in. 

"Both,"  Delane  exclaimed.  "She  was  both, — and 
a  bit  angry  too.  But  what  had  I  said  to  make  her 
afraid  of  me?  What  has  a  girl  to  fear  anyway 
from  a  man  who  loves  her  as  I  do?  And  why 
shouldn't  she  tell  her  brother  about  it  all,  or  think 
that  he  will  be  angry  if  he  knows?  Max  is  a  man 
of  flesh  and  blood,  and  my  pal.  Wouldn't  he  be 
pleased  to  see  a  match  between  me  and  his  sister? 
You  bet  he  would.  I  know  Max  better  than  his 
sister  does." 

Susan  wondered  how  she  could  convey  to  Delane 
the  knowledge  that  Max  Kendall  most  certainly 
would  not  care  to  see  a  match  between  Florence  and 
his  partner  in  business.  She  did  not  wish  to  hurt 
him;  and  she  had  tried  so  hard  the  night  he  was  at 
her  house  to  make  him  see  the  difference  between 
Florence's  world  and  his  own.  Then  she  had  placed 
the  emphasis  upon  her  friend's  absorption  in  her 
work;  perhaps  now  it  would  be  necessary  to  speak 
the  plain  truth.  And  yet  her  admiration  for  De- 
lane  and  the  appeal  of  his  strong,  frank  passion 
held  her  tongue-tied  in  any  effort  she  might  make 
to  awaken  him  to  the  situation. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  191 

At  last  she  said,  "Why  don't  you  speak  to  Max 
about  this  and  tell  him  the  whole  story?" 

"You  mean  press  my  suit  for  the  sister  through 
the  brother?" 

"Not  exactly  that;  but  find  out  what  his  attitude 
is  before  you  say  anything  more  to  Florence.  How- 
ever," Susan  added,  "if  Florence  does  not  care  for 
you,  as  I  suspect  is  the  case,  I  don't  see  that  any- 
thing further  need  be  said." 

"Give  up  now,  after  one  small  attempt?"  Delane 
ejaculated.  "I  guess  you  don't  know  me,"  he  went 
on  excitedly.  "That  isn't  the  way  I  behaved  with 
Greenvale,  is  it  ?  Max  was  faint-hearted  and  would 
have  thrown  up  the  whole  proposition  if  I  hadn't 
prodded  him  on.  The  contractors  told  us  the  land 
was  impossible  of  development;  there  was  no  trol- 
ley near  the  place.  Well,  did  I  throw  up  my  hands 
at  all  that?  Didn't  I  convince  Kendall  and  win 
over  the  contractors  and  push  the  matter  of  the 
railway  franchise  until  we  got  the  cars?  I  didn't 
back  down  on  that  proposition,  and  I  guess  I  am 
not  going  to  back  down  on  this  one  either.  Not 
just  yet,"  he  said,  as  he  got  up  and  strode  over  to 
the  edge  of  the  verandah  and  looked  out  across  the 
moonlit  sea. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  It  seemed  to  Susan 
that  the  deep  boom  of  the  ocean  was  like  the  throb- 
bing of  fate  hanging  over  Florence's  life  and  that  of 
Delane.  What  could  she  do  against  such  forces? 

"My,  but  the  sea  is  beautiful  to-night!''  Delane 


192  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

finally  said,  turning  again  to  his  friend.  "I  wish 
Florence  hadn't  gone  back  to  town." 

In  that  brief  sentence  Susan  knew  he  had  said 
more  than  in  all  the  more  excited  passage  of  a  few 
moments  ago. 

The  dull  booming  of  the  ocean  went  on.  Delane 
seemed  so  helpless;  mankind  seemed  so  helpless  in 
the  presence  of  that  great  throb  of  life  which  was 
like  the  desire  which  is  in  the  hearts  of  all  men  for 
happiness  and  love. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Beyond  the  amazement  Florence  felt  after  the 
scene  with  Delane  on  the  rocks,  her  chief  impression 
was  that  her  feeling  of  dislike  for  him  was  more 
deeply  planted  within  herself  than  she  had  supposed; 
that  her  original  lack  of  sympathy  with  him  had 
developed,  on  account  of  the  close  quarters  to  which 
they  had  come,  into  something  very  like  a  repellent 
attitude  toward  him.  This  being  the  case,  she  saw 
that  it  would  be  necessary  some  day  to  have  a  more 
definite  understanding  than  had  been  possible  dur- 
ing the  interrupted  scene  at  the  picnic.  However, 
the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Potter  drove  thoughts  along 
this  line  out  of  her  mind.  Mrs.  Potter  was  having 
trouble  with  the  girls. 

"It  is  not  that  they  are  misbehaving  themselves," 
Mrs.  Potter  hastened  to  explain,  when  Florence 
had  finished  her  breakfast  and  was  ready  for  an 
interview  with  the  official  chaperone  of  Greenvale; 
"but  they  do  not  pull  together  or  with  me." 

Florence  smiled  serenely,  as  she  had  not  looked 
toward  any  marked  "pulling  together"  between  souls 
of  such  different  types.  At  any  rate,  not  during  the 
first  few  weeks  of  her  Greenvale  household.  A 
mere  getting  on  with  each  other  and  a  semblance  of 
harmony  on  the  surface  was  about  as  much  as  she 


194  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

dared  hope  for.  Her  relief  at  Mrs.  Potter's  words 
lay  in  the  fact  that  the  latter  had  announced  that 
her  charges  were  behaving  themselves. 

"You  must  not  expect  too  much  at  the  beginning," 
Florence  remarked. 

"I  did  expect  though,"  Mrs.  Potter  went  on,  "that 
Gracie  would  know  how  to  sew  and  would  be  of 
some  assistance  to  me.  It  is  worse  than  having  no 
one  to  help ;  for  I  have  to  take  out  nearly  everything 
she  does." 

"I  thought  the  matter  of  assistance  was  going  to 
be  rather  the  other  way  round,"  Florence  ventured. 

This  remark  was  lost  on  Mrs.  Potter,  who  ex- 
claimed, "What  can  I  do  with  two  lazy  girls  on  my 
hands?  Tommy  is  always  pleasant  and  cheery,  but 
will  not  work.  She  doesn't  even  like  to  help  me  in 
the  kitchen,  as  she  says  she  was  sent  out  to  the 
country  to  rest.  The  other  one  tries  to  be  indus- 
trious but  seems  to  have  no  faculty  with  the  needle. 
As  I  said,  I  have  to  take  out  nearly  every  stitch  of 
sewing  she  does.  The  other  day  she  ruined  Mrs. 
Morton's  new  blue  satin  waist, — cut  straight 
through  a  lovely  old  piece  of  lace  which  had  got 
caught  on  something." 

Florence  nearly  laughed,  so  intense  was  Mrs. 
Potter  and  so  complete  her  failure  to  see  anything 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  girls'  inability  in  domestic 
affairs.  She  herself  had  expected  very  little  from 
them  in  this  line. 

"Of  course  the  flat  is  beautiful,"  Mrs.  Potter  re- 
sumed. "I  have  not  lived  in  such  a  pleasant  place 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  195 

since  my  husband  passed  on;  that  was  when  we 
were  in  Somerville  and  had  a  little  garden  of  our 
own.  I  had  hens  then  and  used  to  make  quite  a 
bit  of  pin  money  off  them.  I  gave  Mr.  Potter  a 
French  clock  one  Christmas  with  the  money  I  made 
from  my  hens.  I  feel  much  better,  of  course,  to 
get  out  of  that  stuffy  old  street  in  Charlestown  where 
I  have  lived  ever  since  dear  William  died.  But  I 
didn't  have  so  many  worries  there." 

It  was  easy  to  appreciate  the  difficulties ;  but  Flor- 
ence felt  she  must  go  slowly,  taking  sides  with  the 
girls  whenever  it  was  reasonably  decent  for  her  to 
do  so,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  keeping  them  in  Green- 
vale  as  long  as  possible.  Later  she  hoped  she 
could  place  them  somewhere  in  definite  work.  For 
the  present,  to  soothe  Mrs.  Potter's  troubled  mind 
and  allay  her  worries  was  her  chief  object.  It  al- 
most seemed  as  though  it  might  be  more  of  a  task 
to  persuade  her  to  remain  in  Greenvale  than  to 
keep  the  girls  there. 

"You  must  not  be  too  exacting,"  Florence  said, 
after  a  moment. 

"Exacting!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Potter.  "Is  it 
exacting  for  me  to  expect  those  girls  to  do  a  little 
work, — to  help  me  with  my  sewing  and  wash  up 
the  dishes?  Only  this  morning  Gracie  broke 
another  plate,  and  Tommy's  clothes  are  in  such  a 
condition  that  I  will  probably  just  have  to  sit  down 
myself  and  do  some  mending  on  them.  I  don't 
see  how  they  grew  up  without  knowing  more  about 
household  matters." 


196  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Would  you  know  much  about  such  things  if 
you  had  never  had  a  home?"  Florence  inquired. 

"But  every  one  has  a  home, — some  time.  Of 
course  I  know  what  you  told  me  about  them  and  the 
sort  of  way  they  have  been  living,  and  I  feel  sorry 
for  them.  But  between  you  and  me  there's  a  screw 
loose  somewhere." 

"There  usually  is,"  Florence  interrupted. 

"It  isn't  reasonable  to  suppose,"  Mrs.  Potter 
continued,  "that  those  girls  are  right  in  their  heads, 
or  they  would  not  have  led  such  harum-scarum 
lives." 

Florence  rose  and  went  over  to  the  window.  She 
wondered  if  all  her  plans  were  to  be  upset  through 
the  failure  of  this  woman  to  understand  what  she 
was  trying  to  do. 

"It  is  merely  to  give  them  a  chance,"  she  said  at 
last.  "That  is  all  I  wish  for  the  present,  and  you 
must  help  me  now  that  I  have  gone  so  far."  She 
turned  and  came  back  to  Mrs.  Potter  and  stood 
looking  down  at  her.  "I  often  think  that  I  would 
like  to  see  all  the  miserable  families  living  in  the 
worst  degradation  of  poverty,  without  sufficient 
clothes  or  proper  food,  given  one  chance  in  life. 
Do  you  realize  that  the  fine  home  conditions,  the 
education,  comforts  and  luxuries  which  have  come 
down  to  you  and  me  are  what  these  people  have 
never  known?  Their  heritage  of  poverty,  sickness 
and  sin  has  gone  on  endlessly.  It  is  bad  enough  to 
have  had  money,  to  lose  it  and  to  have  to  struggle 
for  your  daily  bread  and  butter.  But  how  much 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  197 

worse  to  have  your  parents  and  grandparents  ob- 
scure people  who  never  knew  where  their  next  meal 
was  coming  from;  to  be  born  and  raised  in  such 
cpnditions  and  to  go  on  to  a  worse  poverty  and 
obscurity.  They  are  in  a  dark  corridor  where  per- 
haps in  the  beginning  there  was  a  little  light,  but 
that  light  is  so  far  away  down  the  long  passage  of 
time  that  now  they  are  in  utter  blackness ;  and  the 
light  ahead  that  should  shine  for  them  in  the  name 
of  humanity  and  progress  flickers  and  goes  out.  I 
only  ask  that  these  people  be  given  one  chance.  Let 
the  families  have  a  clean  home,  decent  clothing  and 
sufficient  food  for  one  immortal  moment  in  their 
lives;  then  see  what  would  happen." 

Mrs.  Potter  sat  with  the  promise  of  a  smile  upon 
her  face,  feeling  undoubtedly  that  her  way  in  life 
lay  among  a  class  of  people  so  different  from  the 
ones  Mrs.  Wainwright  was  talking  about  that  she 
could  scarcely  be  expected  to  fully  understand  what 
was  being  said.  Attendance  at  Tuesday  evening 
prayer  meetings  and  a  lifelong  s-inging  of  hymns 
which  tended  to  the  lachrymose  had  done  very  little 
to  help  this  woman  understand  the  humanities  of 
life.  Yet  Florence  proceeded. 

"I  know  what  you  and  the  w.orld  think,"  she  said, 
"that  in  nearly  every  case  they  would  throw  away 
the  opportunity;  that  the  men  would  be  shiftless, 
drink  if  they  could  find  the  liquor,  and  neglect 
their  wives  and  let  the  children  go  dirty  the  same 
as  ever.  But  I  don't  believe  this  would  be  true  of 
all,  and  I  never  shall.  Until  society  can  afford  to 


198  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

risk  the  experiment  and  in  a  wholesale  manner  wipe 
out  the  slums — burning  up  the  wooden  infernos  of 
disease  and  vice — and  set  large  communities  of 
these  people  on  their  feet  in  human  working  con- 
ditions, I  shall  believe  that  somewhere  in  the  bottom 
of  their  souls  lies  a  spark  which  would  respond." 
Mrs.  Potter  thought  it  was  high  time  to  put  in  a 
remark,  if  her  own  little  worries  and  cares  were 
to  receive  any  attention. 

"But  some  of  the  poor  do  rise  out  of  it;  some  of 
the  very  poorest  become  rich  and  famous,"  she  said. 
"Look  at  Mr.  Carnegie  and  Abraham  Lincoln." 

"Not  the  kind  of  people  that  I  am  talking  about," 
Florence  answered.  "I  speak  of  the  ones  who  often 
have  no  work  at  all;  are  not  skilled  in  any  trade. 
The  ones  who  frequently  figure  in  the  police  courts 
and  whose  dull  faces  used  to  hang  over  the  bars  of 
the  saloons." 

"Very  unpleasant  people  indeed,"  Mrs.  Potter 
interrupted. 

"Give  them  one  chance,  I  say,"  Florence  went 
on.  "Let  them  for  once  be  clean,  breathe  good 
air;  and  let  them  feel  that  some  one  has  at  last 
stepped  between  them  and  their  long  heritage  of  suf- 
fering. It  all  sounds  chimerical,  and  you  are  smil- 
ing that  society  should  be  foolish  enough  to  attempt 
such  a  thing." 

"I  was  only  wondering,"  Mrs.  Potter  said  quietly, 
"who  would  furnish  the  cash." 

"But  societies  and  civilizations  from  time  im- 
memorial have  gone  into  wars;  have  given  the  last 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  199 

dollar  of  the  community  to  send  armies  into 
the  field ;  to  enlarge  navies,  and  clothe  and  care  for 
a  million  men  that  they  might  go  out  to  die.  Well, 
why  not  to  live?  Why  not  tax  your  community 
heavily  as  it  is  taxed  in  time  of  war  and.  use  the 
money  to  make  men  fit  to  live  ?  Charitable  organi- 
zations, personal  effort,  the  philanthropy  of  rich 
men,  and  societies  for  the  prevention  of  this  and 
the  prevention  of  that,  are  all  doing  what  they  can; 
but  the  thing  must  be  started  on  a  different  basis. 
It  is  not  merely  a  matter  of  raising  wages,  averting 
strikes  and  coming  to  understandings  between  em- 
ployer and  employee.  It  is  the  business  of  the 
whole  world,  each  country  doing  its  share;  and  the 
watchword  shall  be  justice  and  an  equal  chance  for 
every  man.  Democracy  will  break  down,  is  break- 
ing down,  under  the  false  theory  that  every  man 
has  equal  ability.  No  two  men  are  equal  in  ability, 
just  as  no  two  minds  are  exactly  alike.  One  iota 
of  intelligence  in  the  one  makes  the  difference. 
But  all  men  should  have  an  equal  chance  to  pursue 
life  according  to  their  varied  talents.  This  will 
not  be  possible  until  the  blackness  of  our  slums  and 
the  degradation  of  poverty  are  removed ;  and  when 
society,  turning  from  thoughts  of  progress  to  the 
ideals  of  humanity,  shall  cry,  'Let  there  be  light.' ' 

Florence  stopped,  smiling  a  little  when  she  thought 
of  her  audience.  Mrs.  Potter  looked  bewildered. 

"My  husband  was  a  great  man  for  those  demo- 
cratic principles,"  she  said  at  last.  "He  used  to 
say,  'I  guess  I  am  just  as  good  as  James  Swiggins,' 


200  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

— he  was  our  next-door  neighbor, — 'even  if  Jim 
has  been  able  to  send  his  boy  to  college.'  But  then, 
we  never  had  any  children.  I  guess  I  am  just  as 
well  off,  though,  in  my  old  age,  for  never  having 
gone  through  the  experience." 

"Come,  Mrs.  Potter,"  Florence  said,  laughing, 
"you  have  had  enough  of  my  social  theories;  let's 
go  out  and  see  the  girls." 

This  served  to  bring  Mrs.  Potter  back  to  earth, 
for  the  poor  woman  was  becoming  somewhat  vague. 
When  they  reached  Greenvale  an  hour  later  Flor- 
ence thought  her  "experiment"  was  indeed  not  in 
its  most  promising  mood.  The  flat  looked  disor- 
derly; the  breakfast  dishes  were  unwashed,  and  a 
number  of  pieces  of  sewing  were  lying  about  on  the 
floor,  while  Gracie  and  Tommy  were  talking  to- 
gether in  the  dining  room  with  the  Victrola  in  full 
swing.  Florence,  realizing  Mrs.  Potter's  agitation, 
pretended  to  view  the  matter  calmly;  although  she 
could  not  fail  to  be  displeased  to  see  how  long  habit 
and  the  inability  of  the  girls  was  showing  itself. 

"Come  now,  Gracie,"  she  said,  as  an  opening 
wedge,  "this  is  not  the  way  I  behave  in  my  home  in 
the  morning.  The  house  has  to  be  tidied  up ;  what- 
ever sewing  there  is  to  be  done,  attended  to;  and 
things  put  to  rights.  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
take  this  liberty  with  Mrs.  Potter;  for  this  is  her 
home,  as  well  as  yours  for  the  time  being,  and  you 
must  respect  it.  I  did  not  send  you  out  here  merely 
to  have  a  good  time.  I  want  you  to  learn  to  be 
industrious  and  to  behave  yourselves  like  ladies ;  for 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  201 

I  think  neither  of  you  girls  realize  how  bad  it  looks 
to  be  wasting  the  morning  in  this  way.  You  might 
just  as  well  learn  it  now  as  later." 

This  was  the  first  time  Mrs.  Wainwright  had 
ever  lectured  to  them,  and  both  Gracie  and  Tommy 
were  embarrassed.  They  did  not  seem  to  be  sorry 
for  what  they  had  done  but  rather  afraid  they  might 
be  sent  back  to  the  city  and  were  plainly  ill  at  ease, 
wondering  if  their  patron  were  very  angry  with 
them. 

Florence  took  off  her  hat  and  coat,  put  on  one  of 
Mrs.  Potter's  aprons  and,  going  into  the  kitchenette, 
began  to  pile  up  the  dirty  dishes  preparatory  to 
washing  them.  The  amazement  on  the  part  of  the 
girls  was  not  greater  than  Mrs.  Potter's.  Finally 
Gracie  stepped  forward  and  took  hold  of  Florence's 
arm. 

"That's  no  work  for  you  to  be  doing.  Let 
Tommy  and  me  do  the  clearing  up,"  she  exclaimed, 
showing  at  last  some  interest  in  the  matter. 

She  picked  up  the  dish  pan,  filled  it  with  hot 
water  from  the  kettle,  and  was  soon  busy  with  soap 
and  towel. 

"We  will  all  do  it  together,"  Florence  said,  "and 
then  it  will  be  the  sooner  over." 

This  idea  pleased  the  girls  immensely,  and  they 
helped  with  a  right  good  will,  insisting  that  Mrs. 
Potter  should  stay  out  of  the  kitchen  and  attend 
to  her  sewing. 

"It  is  rather  fun  doing  housework,  isn't  it,  when 
there  are  a  lot  of  people  messing  about  together?" 


202  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Tommy  remarked,  as  she  wiped  and  polished  the 
knives  and  forks. 

"It  is  certainly  easier  that  way,"  Florence  replied. 

Gracie  began  to  hum  a  popular  song.  "There's 
an  awfully  good  picture  at  Jordan's  Olympic  this 
week,"  she  said,  in  the  midst  of  her  singing.  "Pearl 
Burr  in  '  Buttons  and  the  Man' ;  and  I  was  wonder- 
ing if  it  would  be  all  right  for  us  to  go  in  to  see  it 
to-morrow." 

"Perfectly  all  right,"  Florence  answered  quickly, 
"if  you  are  certain  you  will  not  run  into  any  of 
your  old  friends  and  waste  your  time  sitting  around 
in  cafes.  You  know  that  sort  of  thing  really  isn't 
any  fun.  There  are  lots  of  things  that  are  much 
better  sport." 

"Oh,  no,  we  won't  do  that,"  Gracie  said,  "for 
Mr.  Delane  will  take  us  to  the  movies  any  day  we 
want  to  go.  I  only  have  to  telephone  him,  you  see." 

Florence  did  not  know  just  what  to  say  to  this. 
It  was  all  very  well  for  Delane  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  girls, — especially  as  he  had  done  so  much  to 
make  the  present  project  possible;  but  she  could 
not  approve  of  the  idea  of  his  being  so  friendly  and 
so  much  one  of  the  family  that  he  could  be  sum- 
moned by  telephone  at  any  moment,  like  an  old  pal. 

"I  hardly  think  it  right  to  presume  too  much  on 
Mr.  Delane's  time,"  she  said  at  last.  "Of  course, 
you  would  have  to  see  the  picture  in  the  afternoon, 
as  you  know  that  you  agreed  not  to  go  out  in  the 
evening  until  Tommy  is  stronger.  I  am  sure  it 
would  be  asking  a  great  deal  of  a  very  busy  man 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  203 

to  suggest  that  Mr.  Delane  should  do  anything  in 
the  afternoon." 

"The  afternoons  are  all  right  for  him  at  this 
time  of  the  year,"  Tommy  interrupted.  "He  is 
coming  out  to-day  to  take  us  to  ride.  Gee!  that's 
funny  dope,"  she  added,  after  a  moment,  "to  be 
riding  around  with  the  swell  young  feller  in  the  auto 
that  broke  your  leg." 

Some  of  the  difficulties  that  were  bound  to  occur 
in  Florence's  Greenvale  scheme  seemed  to  be  ap- 
pearing with  remarkable  swiftness.  There  was 
Mrs.  Potter's  dissatisfaction;  the  lack  of  industry 
and  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  girls;  and  now  the 
appearance  of  the  male  element  on  the  scene,  which 
perhaps  affected  Florence  more  unpleasantly  than 
any  slight  domestic  friction  in  the  flat  could  have 
done.  She  had  known  from  the  first  that  some  sort 
of  a  man  would  be  desirable,  if  Gracie  and  her  friend 
were  to  remain  reasonably  contented  in  the  coun- 
try. She  would  almost  have  liked  a  husband  for 
Mrs.  Potter,  who,  in  spite  of  his  age,  would  at 
least  have  been  in  trousers.  She  only  wished  that 
the  man  had  not  appeared  in  the  person  of  Delane. 
Why  she  should  feel  so  strongly  this  uneasiness 
about  him  she  could  not  quite  tell;  except  that  she 
had  felt  it  from  the  beginning,  during  those  days 
at  the  hospital  over  the  sick  bed  of  Tommy.  But 
since  his  declaration  of  devotion  to  herself,  it 
would  be  logical  to  expect  that  he  was  not  in  the 
state  of  mind  to  pursue  the  general  feminine  in 
place  of  the  special. 


204  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

It  occurred  to  her  now  that  the  only  thing  to  do 
was  to  let  Delane  play  around  with  the  girls  until 
she  should  see  things  which  would  necessitate  a 
halt  in  the  proceedings.  She  could  not  see  the 
whole  scheme  fall  through  on  account  of  her  own 
squeamishness.  She  decided  to  stay  to  luncheon 
that  she  might  be  on  the  spot  when  Delane  came  to 
take  the  girls  out  riding  and  show  him  that  she  was 
quite  aware  of  his  interest  in  them. 

The  presence  of  Mrs.  Wainwright  at  the  table 
had  a  very  cheering  effect  upon  Mrs.  Potter's  little 
household;  and  that  lady  became  so  brightened  in 
spirits  that  she  said  she  would  go  herself  to  the 
movies  with  the  girls  whenever  they  wished. 
Grade,  frowning  at  Tommy,  remarked  that  she  did 
not  believe  Mrs.  Potter  would  like  "Buttons  and  the 
Man"  .because  Pearl  Burr  was  such  an  awful 
"vamp,"  and  that  some  of  her  clothes  would  surely 
shock  "Aunt  Agnes." 

"Why  the  'Aunt  Agnes?'  "  Florence  asked.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  heard  this  title  for  Mrs. 
Potter  whose  given  name  happened  to  be  Mary. 

"Oh,  because  it  sounds  sort  of  like  a  'Maiden's 
Prayer,'  "  Tommy  replied,  at  which  every  one  burst 
out  laughing. 

Mrs.  Potter  did  not  seem  to  mind  the  nickname 
and  ate  her  stewed  kidneys  and  baked  potato  with 
great  relish. 

Delane  appeared  promptly  at  half-past  two  and 
was  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  Mrs.  Wainwright 
there.  In  fact,  Florence  was  somewhat  discoun- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  205 

tenanced  by  his  desire  that  she  should  -join  them  on 
the  ride.  He  was  apparently  trying  to  make  it  evi- 
dent to  her  more  clearly  than  ever  that  it  was  only 
because  of  his  fondness  for  her  that  he  was  playing 
attendance  upon  Gracie  and  Tommy. 

In  a  confidential  aside  he  said,  "I  am  doing  every- 
thing in  my  power  to  make  them  contented  here 
and  to  make  this  plan  of  yours  a  success.  You 
know  they  have  got  good  stuff  in  them, — especially 
Gracie.  I  realize  that  girls  of  their  type  won't 
stay  marooned  out  here  in  the  country  with  an  old 
lady ;  so  I  just  drop  in  on  them  every  chance  I  get. 
Of  course  you  don't  mind." 

Florence  made  no  direct  answer  to  this;  but  she 
intimated  that  persons  of  the  sort  he  was  talking 
about  were  very  susceptible  to  anything  in  trousers, 
and  that  perhaps  a  little  of  him  would  go  a  great 
way. 

"You  can  be  very  funny,  Mrs.  Wainwright." 
he  said.  Then  after  a  moment,  "I  hope  I  didn't 
annoy  you  much  by  what  I  said  the  other  day." 

"It  depends  on  what  you  mean  by  much,"  Flor- 
ence replied. 

"That  I  did  not  take  you  too  much  by  surprise." 

"I  was  quite  as  surprised  as  it  is  possible  for  a 
person  to  be,"  Florence  said. 

"But  you  must  have  known — " 

"I  knew  nothing;  had  no  suspicion  of  your 
feeling  toward  me." 

"Then  you  have  thought  about  it?"  Delane  pur- 
sued. 


206  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Don't  let's  talk  of  that  here,"  Florence  mur- 
mured, as  the  girls  came  into  the  room,  dressed  to  go 
out. 

Florence  would  not  accept  the  invitation  to  ride 
into  town;  but  waving  good-by  to  the  party  in  the 
motor,  returned  to  the  house  for  a  chat  with  Mrs. 
Potter.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation  it  was 
revealed  that  Gracie  had  been  taken  one  evening  by 
Delane  into  town  for  dinner.  As  she  had  had  so 
little  excitement,  it  seemed  all  right  to  let  her  go, 
Mrs.  Potter  thought ;  and  had  said  nothing  about  it 
for  fear  of  worrying  Florence. 

"With  any  one  else,  naturally  I  would  have  said 
No,"  Mrs.  Potter  explained.  "But  Mr.  Delane  is 
a  friend  of  yours,  and  I  knew  she  was  in  safe 
hands." 

Safe  hands?  Florence  wondered.  One  thing 
very  plain  to  her  was  that  Mrs.  Potter,  with  her 
trusting  attitude  and  lack  of  experience  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  might  require  quite  as  much  oversight 
as  the  girls. 

That  evening  Rothwell  dropped  in  to  see  Flor- 
ence. Max  was  out,  which  suited  Florence's  pur- 
poses perfectly,  for  she  wanted  to  ask  Rothwell 
about  several  things.  He  was  staying  at  the  shore 
•with  Susan  and  said  that  he  had  run  up  to  town 
especially  to  see  Mrs.  Wainwright, — probably,  she 
thought,  at  Susan's  suggestion. 

"I  want  to.  know,""  Florence  began*,  "if  you  really 
like  Jim  Delane ;  if  you  think  he  is  the  right  sort.  I 
should  like  to  get  a  man's  opinion  of  him.  Of 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  207 

course,  my  brother's  idea  of  him  is  not  much  good 
since  he  is  so  frightfully  partial." 

"Why,  I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  thought 
much  about  Delane  one  way  or  the  other,"  Rothwell 
answered.  "People  like  him  I  don't  usually  think 
of  as  being  the  right  or  wrong  sort, — they  are  just 
themselves,  you  see,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  pi- 
geonhole them." 

"What  a  perfect  system  you  English  have," 
Florence  said,  smiling.  "For  you  there  is  really 
only  one  kind  of  people,  and  the  rest  don't  matter." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  Rothwell  went  on. 
"The  outsiders  are  all  very  well,  sometimes  notice- 
ably so,  as  in  the  case  of  Delane.     But  they  are  still 
outsiders,  aren't  they?" 

"Americans  haven't  that  word  'outsiders,'  "  Flor- 
ence continued.  "And  I  think  it  rather  shows  our 
different  point  of  view  because  we  don't  use  it  as  you 
do.  I  admit  we  often  err  the  other  way  and  fail  to 
make  distinctions  between  people,  necessary  distinc- 
tions which  are  good  for  both  classes.  Our  soci- 
ety loses  a  certain  tone  in  consequence.  But  it  is 
natural  for  us  to  have  a  healthy  curiosity  about 
people  in  every  walk  of  life.  That  curiosity,  so  in- 
herent in  the  American  temperament,  leads  to  a  kind 
of  understanding  and  sympathy.  That  is  our  social 
grace, — perhaps  our  only  one." 

"You  will  confess,  though,  won't  you,"  Rothwell 
said,  after  a  moment,  "that  I  get  on  better  with  De- 
lane  than  you  do;  and  this  in  spite  of  calling  him  an 
outsider." 


208  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"That  is  the  curious  part,"  Florence  exclaimed; 
"he  interests  me,  but  I  frankly  acknowledge  I  do  not 
like  him." 

"There  you  are,"  Rothwell  continued.  "Delane 
does  not  interest  me  in  the  slightest,  but  I  have  taken 
something  of  a  fancy  to  him." 

Florence  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  she  said, 
"Perhaps  your  system  works  better  than  ours.  You 
never  make  an  effort  to  get  inside  another  person's 
skin,  but  you  have  a  natural  good  humor  toward 
people  which  certainly  makes  for  social  amenity. 
What  I  want  to  know  is,  would  you  trust  Delane?" 

"Surely  your  brother  is  the  man  for  you  to  ask 
that,"  Rothwell  was  quick  to  reply. 

"Oh,  Max  swears  by  Delane.  He  admires  his 
business  ability,  and  he  likes  him  as  a  man." 

"Then  why  do  you  need  any  further  light  on  the 
subject?" 

"Because  there  are  different  angles  in  a  subject," 
Florence  answered.  "There  are  aspects  of  Delane 
that  I  must  consider  which  would  never  enter  my 
brother's  mind  at  all." 

"And  you  think  I  am  a  better  thermometer  re- 
specting certain  values,"  Rothwell  laughed.  "You 
mean  in  connection  with  Greenvale  ?" 

"Yes,"  Florence  said.  "Delane  has  helped  to 
make  it  possible  for  me  to  place  those  two  girls  of 
mine  in  Greenvale.  He  has  shown  an  interest  in 
the  project  from  the  beginning;  and  he  is  now  danc- 
ing attendance  upon  Gracie  and  Tommy, — so  that 
they  may  have  a  little  diversion,"  she  added,  with  a 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  209 

laugh.  "But  a  number  of  things  have  happened 
lately  which  have  made  me  wonder  if  he  is  doing  all 
this  merely  to  gain  my  good  will, — to  square  himself 
with  me.  Is  his  interest  really  sincere?  That  is 
what  I  would  like  to  find  out." 

"But  how  should  I  know?"  Rothwell  inquired, 
with  the  blankest  expression  imaginable.  "I  have 
seen  Jim  with  Susan,  with  you  and  Max, — here  and 
there  quite  casually;  and  I  have  always  had  a  jolly 
good  time  with  him." 

"You  delightful  soul!"  Florence  cried,  jumping 
up.  "Don't  bother  your  dear  old  head  about  the 
complicated  things  of  life;  but  come  into  the  other 
room  and  play  the  piano  for  me." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  doubt  in  Florence's 
mind  that  she  was  in  love  with  Rothwell.  On  the 
night  of  Susan's  party,  when  she  had  felt  that  over- 
whelming attraction  in  him,  she  had  tried  to  fight 
against  it.  She  had  continued  to  do  so  for  a  long 
time  after,  even  when  she  knew  that  he  was  above 
all  other  people  the  one  she  liked  best  to  be  with. 
Then  during  Susan's  absence  from  Boston,  when 
she  had  made  special  efforts  to  give  him  a  good  time, 
she  had  fought  against  the  knowledge  that  he  was 
anything  more  to  her  than  a  friend.  But  now  she 
wanted  him  as  a  lover ;  and  as  he  sat  playing  to  her 
this  evening,  she  felt  all  his  charm.  His  very  cool- 
ness of  attitude  was  part  of  the  charm  he  held  for 
her.  Perhaps  because  he  had  never  been  sentimental 
with  her — had  never  regarded  her  other  than  as  a 
good  pal  with  whom  he  had  had  many  jolly  times — 


210  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

added  to  the  fascination.  He  really  played  the 
piano  delightfully.  He  did  so  many  things  well; 
and  yet  his  mind  was  as  simple  as  a  child's.  Flor- 
ence wondered  if  she  would  care  to  have  a  husband 
like  that,  at  the  same  time  letting  her  fancy  run  on 
until  she  could  imagine  perfect  happiness  with  such 
a  man.  How  different  from  her  brother,  who  was 
always  concentrated  upon  the  essentials  of  life. 
How  much  he  seemed  to  miss  because  of  that;  and 
yet,  Florence  wondered,  as  Rothwell  broke  into  the 
splendid  opening  bars  of  the  Grande  Valse  of 
Glazunov,  if  it  were  not  just  on  account  of  missing 
the  finer  shades  of  life  that  American  men  had  been 
able  to  go  so  far  in  the  realities  of  business  and 
finance.  The  success  that  comes  with  achievement 
in  the  world  of  affairs  brings  with  it  a  certain  lack 
of  appreciation.  Rothwell  belonged  undoubtedly  to 
the  decorative  side  of  life. 

The  music  stopped.  Rothwell  sat  looking  across 
the  piano  at  Florence,  who  was  in  the  corner  of  the 
room  under  the  shaded  glow  of  a  big  lamp. 

"Did  you  like  that?"  he  asked. 

"Yes ;  play  some  more.     I  love  it  all." 

He  struck  a  few  chords  at  random  and  then 
dashed  into  a  Chopin  etude, — the  one  known  as  the 
"Butterfly."  Rothwell  was  essentially  masculine, 
hearty  and  full  of  the  love  of  out-of-door  life,  and 
yet  he  played  Chopin  with  infinite  grace  and  feeling. 
Florence  had  known  men  who  played  delightfully  or 
painted,  and  she  had  met  professional  pianists  in 
Paris  and  known  one  or  two  rather  well.  But  they 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  211 

had  been  very  different;  so  little  suggestive  of  any- 
thing beyond  their  art.  Although  long  hair  had 
long  since  passed  out  of  fashion  for  the  concert 
stage,  they  were  the  sort  of  men  who  suggested  the 
bizarre  in  appearance.  They  were  aneamic  or  with 
the  burned-out  expression  of  men  who  have  suc- 
cumbed to  every  passion.  Rothwell's  face  was  cast 
in  a  fine  mold.  His  features  were  sensitive  and  his 
eyes  very  beautiful;  but  the  whole  effect  was  of  the 
perfectly  normal  type.  This  was  what  had  so  often 
impressed  Florence.  She  loved  his  strength,  and 
she  admired  the  delicacy  of  his  mind. 

"To  play  like  that  there  must  have  been  a  time 
when  you  studied  very  hard,"  Florence  said,  as  the 
music  came  to  an  end. 

"Yes,  I  played  quite  seriously  for  a  number  of 
years,"  Rothwell  replied.  "I  had  a  chum  who 
painted, — Harry  Mawson,  a  splendid  fellow.  He 
went  over  to  Paris  to  study  his  art,  and  I  went  with 
him.  We  took  a  studio  together  and  had  great  fun ; 
although  I  think  my  playing  rather  got  on  Mawson's 
nerves  when  he  was  trying  to  concentrate  on  a  par- 
ticularly good  model." 

"Of  course  you  did  not  know  Susan  then,"  Flor- 
ence put  in. 

"No,  indeed;  she  is  a  later  event  in  my  life. 
Mawson  was  killed  in  the  war.  Since  then — in  fact, 
since  the  war — I  seem  to  have  cared  very  little  about 
my  music.  I  think  I  like  life  too  much  to  spend 
my  days  cramped  up  over  a  piano,  trying  to  make 
myself  into  a  virtuoso.  And  then  you  see  Susan  has 


212  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

been  rather  an  absorbing  interest  the  last  year  or 
two." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Florence  seemed  to  feel 
for  the  first  time  the  intensity  of  this  man's  devotion 
to  her  friend.  She  never  had  believed  it  could  be 
anything  but  a  deep  admiration  on  the  part  of  Hu- 
bert, the  discrepancy  in  years  between  himself  and 
Susan  putting  out  of  her  mind  any  thought  of  the 
romantic.  But  she  realized  now  that  it  was  some- 
thing far  deeper  and  more  vital -than  mere  friend- 
ship. 

"The  pity  is,"  Hubert  said  at  last,  "the  lady  won't 
marry  me." 

Florence  would  have  been  inclined  to  laugh  if 
she  had  not  seen  so  clearly  the  sadness  behind  his 
words. 

"I  suppose  I  shall  go  back  to  England  and  end 
my  days  in  bacherlorhood,"  he  went  on,  getting  up 
from  the  piano. 

"That  should  not  be  necessary,"   she  ventured. 

Hubert  stood  looking  down  at  her.  The  lamp- 
light surrounded  him  with  a  kind  of  rosy  halo. 
How  Florence  wanted  to  cry  out,  "Look  at  me; 
take  me  as  your  wife.  I  am  ready;  I  am  only 
waiting  for  the  word.  I  love  you.  I  know  now 
the  strength  of  that  love;  for  you  have  only  to  stand 
there  all  aglow  before  me  to  make  my  whole  being 
thrill  with  the  desire  of  you." 

But  those  words  could  not  be  said.  Florence 
merely  looked  at  him  and  then  down  at  the  floor; 
and  Hubert  was  moving  away  from  her.  The  in- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  213 

timate  word  had  not  been  spoken.  Would  she  ever 
be  able  to  touch  the  vital  note  in  him?  Would  she 
ever  arouse  in  him  the  feeling  that  he  caused  in  her  ? 
Would  he  go  out  of  her  life,  leaving  only  the  sweet 
memory  of  a  great  beauty  which  had  passed  across 
her  vision  like  those  glimpses  that  one  gets  some- 
times on  the  sea  between  sundown  and  twilight 
when  all  is  illumined  by  the  unearthly  color  that  no 
poet  or  painter  could  ever  depict, — the  light  that 
never  was  upon  heaven  or  earth  but  which  lies  deep 
down  in  the  soul  of  every  mortal? 

She  did  not  know.  After  Hubert  had  gone,  Flor- 
ence sat  a  long  time  in  the  dimly  lighted  room  while 
her  thoughts  floated  far  away,  dreaming  of  a  pos- 
sible happiness.  She  felt  like  weeping,  but  instead 
of  giving  way  to  that  mood,  she  turned  out  the 
light  and  went  upstairs  saying  to  herself,  "I  wonder 
if  I  am  getting  foolishly  sentimental." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Florence  was  with  Hubert  most  of  the  next  day 
when  they  went  together  to  one  of  the  country 
clubs  near  town;  they  had  luncheon,  played  nine 
holes  of  golf,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
cooling  off  with  the  aid  of  tall  glasses  of  iced  tea 
sipped  on  the  porch  of  the  clubhouse.  Roth  well  re- 
turned in  the  evening  to  Susan  and  the  sea  breezes 
of  the  shore,  as  he  had  a  tennis  match  to  play  early 
the  next  morning.  That  evening  Florence  was  still 
in  what  she  had  chosen  to  call  her  sentimental  mood 
about  Hubert  when  Max  came  into  the  room,  an- 
nouncing that  if  the  building  fever  kept  on  at  its  pres- 
ent pace  in  Greenvale,  and  land  values  there  continued 
to  rise,  he  would  be  a  rich  man  before  very  long. 

"That  is  fine,"  Florence  said,  getting  up.  "But 
I  am  tired  of  the  business  of  life.  It  all  amounts  to 
so  little  in  the  total  reckoning." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  Max 
put  in.  "But  my  totals  won't  be  small,  if  that  is 
what  you  mean." 

His  sister  laughed.  Suddenly  she  said,  "Does 
Delane  ever  talk  about  me?" 

"He  used  to  talk  a  good  deal  about  you, — just 
after  he  first  met  you.  He  was  always  trying  to 
arrange  some  party  with  you,  or  expecting  that  I 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  215 

would  bring  him  up  to  the  house  to  see  you.  But 
I  knew  how  you  felt  on  the  subject,  and  I  did  not 
let  him  get  very  far."  Max  was  silent  a  moment. 
"I  wish  you  liked  Jim  better,"  he  added. 

"I  wish  I  did,"  Florence  said  a  little  sadly.  "It 
would  simplify  matters  so." 

"You  mean  that  you  know  Jim  is  pretty  keen 
about  you." 

"Of  course.  But  you  wouldn't  like  me  to  recip- 
rocate, would  you  ?" 

"My  dear  girl !"  Max  exclaimed,  crossing  over  to 
Florence  and  putting  his  arm  about  her.  "What- 
ever made  you  think  of  that?" 

"Because  I  try  to  think  of  everything  that  has 
to  do  with  your  happiness,"  she  answered. 

"I  would  be  the  last  person  to  want  Jim  Delane 
as  a  brother-in-law,"  Max  went  on  vehemently. 
"My  welfare  can  go  hang  before  he  shall  ever  make 
love  to  you." 

Florence  started  to  say  something,  and  then  she 
stopped.  She  knew  it  was  better  not  to  tell  her 
brother  that  Delane  had  already  declared  himself  to 
her.  She  had  cause  to  wonder  later  if  it  would 
not  have  been  wiser  if  she  had  told  him  all ;  but  there 
was  the  fear  that  he  would  speak  to  Delane  and 
might  antagonize  him,  which  quite  naturally  might 
lead  to  a  difficulty  in  their  business  relations. 

She  continued  to  wonder ;  but  as  the  months  went 
by  and  she  saw  nothing  of  Delane,  who  had  gone 
into  the  country  for  a  holiday,  she  never  spoke  of 
him  to  her  brother.  Max  was  too  busy  to  leave  the 


216  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

office  for  a  vacation ;  but  Delane  could  indulge  him- 
self, seeing  how  the  success  of  Greenvale  was  not 
such  a  necessary  factor  in  his  finances  as  it  was  to 
Kendall.  The  departure  of  Delane  to  the  country 
had  really  taken  a  burden  off  Florence's  mind,  as  she 
was  never  altogether  comfortable  now  when  he  was 
about,  feeling  that  at  any  time  he  might  break  forth 
into  the  subject  of  his  devotion  to  her.  But  she 
thought  he  must  have  come  now  to  a  realization  of 
her  attitude  toward  him;  that  Susan  had  probably 
helped  her  in  this  matter,  and  that  those  complica- 
tions which  she  had  imagined  earlier  in  the  summer 
had  vanished  into  air,  as  such  things  are  likely  to 
do  when  seen  in  perspective. 

It  was  autumn  now,  and  Susan  was  preparing  to 
leave  the  shore.  Florence  went  down  for  a  last 
visit  with  her.  Rothwell,  who  was  staying  at  a 
nearby  hotel,  spent  most  of  his  time  at  Miss  Ander- 
ton's.  There  were  some  fine  walks  with  him  along 
the  cliffs  in  the  sharp  September  wind.  One  day 
he  and  Florence  set  out  late  in  the  afternoon. 
Everything  was  gold  and  blue.  The  bayberry 
bushes  and  thorn  berries  had  turned  red;  the  sun 
made  them  a  deep  copper  color.  The  sunlight  came 
slanting  through  gray  clouds  and  had  the  rich  yellow 
tone  of  early  autumn.  The  sea  was  indigo.  Roth- 
well,  swinging  a  stick  and  without  a  hat,  marched 
on  ahead  of  Florence  in  the  narrow  footpath  at  the 
top  of  the  rocks.  He  seemed  to  her  all  edged 
with  gold,  a  fine  figure  against  the  deep  blue  sea. 

At  last  they  sat  down  in  a  sheltered  corner  of 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  217 

the  cliffs ;  sat  very  close  to  each  other,  and  Hubert 
could  feel  his  companion  pressing  slightly  against 
him.  Florence  had  never  been  so  near  him,  had 
never  felt  before  the  charm  of  his  personality  so 
close  to  her.  He  was  gazing  into  the  beyond  and 
humming  a  melody,  one  of  the  things  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  playing.  She  was  swept  away  into  space 
by  this  nearness  to  the  man  she  loved.  He  must 
feel  it,  he  must  respond,  she  thought.  A  flock  of 
birds  going  south  for  the  winter  shot  like  an  arrow 
across  the  sky  and  disappeared  into  the  radiant 
distance. 

After  a  time  Hubert  put  his  arm  around  Flor- 
ence and  took  her  hand.  She  allowed  herself  to 
slide  over  against  him,  her  head  resting  on  his 
shoulder.  Not  a  word  was  said.  The  wind  sang 
through  the  low  growth  of  bushes  behind  them. 
Far  down  the  long  sweep  of  shore  two  men  were 
pulling  in  a  boat.  The  sun  caught  them  now  and 
then,  and  they  stood  out  in  bright  relief  like  figures 
in  a  play  when  all  the  light  is  directed  on  them.  A 
thin  spiral  of  smoke,  so  indistinct  that  it  was  almost 
a  part  of  the  sky,  hung  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon 
where  some  steamer  was  dipping  down  across  the 
great  curve  of  the  world.  For  Florence,  perfect 
bliss;  for  the  man,  a  slight  uneasiness  and  a  wild 
confusion  of  thoughts  in  his  brain.  Rothwell  was 
not  sure  just  how  fond  he  was  of  this  woman  beside 
him.  That  he  admired  her  and  liked  being  with 
her  there  could  not  be  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  his 
mind.  But  did  he  love  her?  If  he  were  not  head 


218  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

over  heels  in  love  with  her,  upon  which  point  he 
thought  he  saw  himself  quite  clearly,  he  wondered  if 
he  would  ever  feel  any  more  strongly  attracted  by 
any  one.  Perhaps  he  was  not  the  sort  to  fall  dizzily 
in  love;  and  yet  he  knew  what  his  attitude  toward 
Susan  had  been.  That  for  him  had  been  a  deep 
devotion.  He  never  had  been  much  good  at  the 
ordinary  flirtation  kind  of  thing,  and  the  mere  fact 
that  a  very  beautiful  girl  was  sitting  beside  him 
could  not  change  the  general  habit  of  his  mind. 
"Confound  it,"  he  declared  to  himself,  "this  is  all 
too  mental.  I  am  reasoning  all  this  out  in  a  cold- 
blooded manner.  But  doesn't  this  prove,"  his  train 
of  thoughts  ran  on,  "that  I  am  not  desperately  smit- 
ten in  the  present  situation?" 

And  so  they  sat  for  perhaps  an  hour ;  when  Flor- 
ence, feeling  the  wind  to  be  getting  rather  brisk 
and  realizing  that  no  warmth  was  to  be  expected 
from  her  companion  to  offset  the  temper  of  the 
climate,  proposed  that  they  go  home.  It  was  a  wel- 
come suggestion  to  Hubert,  who  was  beginning  to 
feel  a  slight  awkwardness  and  was  wondering  just 
how  much  he  ought  to  say  if  he  spoke  at  all  of  the 
ambiguous  situation  which  seemed  to  have  arisen 
between  himself  and  Mrs.  Wainwright.  When  they 
got  back  to  the  Anderton  cottage  Florence  was  both 
radiant  and  angry.  The  man  seemed  to  her  impos- 
sible. Would  he  never  see  things  as  they  really 
stood?  She  said  good  night  as  shortly  as  could 
be  done  with  decency  and  retreated  to  her  room. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Florence?"  Susan  asked. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  219 

"I  have  seen  quite  plainly  this  afternoon  that  she 
is  very  fond  of  me." 

"And  of  course  you  remained  an  icicle,"  Susan 
exclaimed.  "I  would  like  to  give  you  a  good  beat- 
ing." 

"But  how  can  you  expect  me  to  love  every  pretty 
girl  that  you  throw  in  my  way?" 

"Florence  Wainwright  is  not  a  girl,  and  I  don't 
expect  you  to  flirt  promiscuously,"  Susan  blurted 
out.  "But  she  is  just  the  match  for' you,  and  I  see 
that  you  are  a  goose." 

"Don't  be  hard  on  me,  dear  Susan,"  Hubert 
laughed.  "Surely  I  must  have  time  to  make  up  my 
mind." 

"Oh,  damn  your  mind.  It's  your  heart  that 
ought  to  tell  you  what  to  do." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  Rothwell  went  on, 
quite  undismayed  by  his  friend's  vehemence.  "It 
doesn't." 

The  next  day  he  stayed  away;  but  another  man 
appeared  on  the  scene.  This  was  no  other  than 
Delane.  His  arrival  was  most  unexpected,  for  he 
was  supposed  to  be  in  the  White  Mountains  some- 
where in  a  camp  with  his  sister  and  several  con- 
genial spirits.  He  said  he  had  not  intended  to  be 
away  so  long,  but  that  he  had  not  been  altogether 
well  and  his  doctor  had  advised  country  air;  while 
Max  had  assured  him  that  things  were  going  all 
right  at  the  office,  and  thbre  was  absolutely  no  hurry 
for  him  to  return. 

"But  I  had  to  see  Max  before  he  went  to  New 


220  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

York,"  Delane  continued,  in  explanation  of  himself. 

"Yes ;  he  is  going  over  to-night,"  Florence  replied, 
"and  I  am  returning  to  town  this  a  fternoon  to  pack 
him  off." 

"That  is  such  a  pity,  just  as  I  have  arrived," 
Delane  exclaimed.  "By  the  way,  I  was  with  Max 
all  day  yesterday;  and  he  especially  told  me  to  say 
that  you  were  not  to  hurry  up  to  town  to-day  to  see 
him  off.  That  he  was  quite  all  right  and  wouldn't 
be  away  more  than  a  fortnight." 

"That  is  all  very  good  of  Max,"  Florence  said, 
"but  I  was  leaving  to-morrow,  anyway.  Poor 
Susan  has  certainly  had  enough  of  me  for  one  sea- 
son. It  seems  as  though  I  had  been  coming  and 
going  all  summer.  There  must  be  other  friends  that 
you  would  like  to  have  stay  with  you  before  you 
close  this  house,"  she  continued,  turning  to  her 
friend. 

"I  will  invite  Jim  at  once,"  Susan  replied.  "But 
you  know  how  simple  it  would  be  for  me  to  put 
you  both  up." 

A  sort  of  companion — combination  seamstress 
and  ex-lady's  maid — had  been  with  Susan  through- 
out the  summer ;  so  that  Rothwell's  frequent  appear- 
ances and  these  casual  invitations  to  other  men  had 
not  caused  a  flutter  among  the  South  Shore  colony, 
although  it  must  be  admitted  that  some  of  the  more 
elderly  Floyds  and  Crumpletons — a  family  of  more 
than  "Social  Register"  standing,  having  had  two 
great-grandfathers  in  the  Revolution  and  no  end  of 
silver  on  the  Mayflower — looked  rather  askance 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  221 

at  the  buxom  Miss  Anderton  and  her  free  and  easy 
ways,  savoring,  they  thought,  a  little  too  much  of 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  to  be  in  the  picture 
out  here  on  the  rock-bound  Atlantic  coast. 

"Of  course  I  will  stay,"  Delane  laughed;  "and 
you  must  persuade  Mrs.  Wainwright  to  do  the 
same." 

"It  is  impossible,"  Florence  said.  "I  want  to  see 
Max  before  he  goes ;  and  more  than  that,  my  settle- 
ment house  begins  its  work  for  the  winter  to-morrow 
with  a  special  meeting  in  the  morning  to  devise 
ways  and  means — really  one  of  the  most  important 
meetings  we  have  the  entire  year — and  I  must  not 
miss  it.  I  will  have  to  go  this  afternoon,"  she 
concluded,  "Please  look  up  the  trains  for  me, 
Susan." 

Miss  Anderton,  whose  sureness  never  failed  her 
in  the  matter  of  details,  announced  there  was  an 
excellent  train  at  five-four,  which  would  get  Flor- 
ence to  town  in  plenty  of  time  to  see  her  brother 
before  he  left  on  the  "midnight." 

"If  you  take  that,  you  will  be  able  to  have  tea 
here  before  you  go,"  she  added.  "I  will  get  Hu- 
bert over;  for  he  will  want  to  say  good-by  and 
probably  has  not  the  slightest  idea  that  you  are  run- 
ning away  from  us  to-day." 

"And  I  will  take  you  to  the  station  in  my  car," 
Delane  declared. 

Efforts  to  get  Rothwell  for  tea  were  not  success- 
ful. He  was  not  at  the  hotel.  The  clerk  there 
thought  he  had  gone  out  on  a  sailing  party  but  was 


222  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

not  sure  just  where  he  was  or  when  he  would  re- 
turn. Florence  looked  a  little  dubious.  She  won- 
dered if  there  were  not  an  earlier  train. 

"Only  a  horrid  old  local  that  picks  up  the  trippers 
from  Nantasket,"  Susan  explained.  "Besides,  you 
want  your  tea." 

They  sat  on  the  verandah  and  watched  a  big 
black  cloud  which  was  sweeping  in  from  the  sea 
in  the  form  of  an  immense  sector  of  a  circle.  It 
had  ragged  edges  and  looked  ugly.  The  water 
near  the  shore  was  very  calm  and  the  color  of  lead. 
There  was  a  dead  stillness  in  the  air  and  that  pecu- 
liar feeling  that  gives  one  the  impression  of  a 
world  suspended  at  the  bottom  of  a  vacuum.  A 
strange  light  hung  over  the  clean-cut  edge  of  the 
horizon.  The  rolling  country  to  the  west  was  dis- 
turbingly distinct,  each  house  and  tree  and  hill 
standing  out  like  paper  silhouettes  in  an  unreal  pan- 
orama. It  was  like  a  land  of  the  dead  with  no 
breeze  to  rustle  the  trees,  no  song  of  birds,  and  no 
movement  or  sound  from  the  great  flat  expanse  of 
water  that  lay  darkly  under  the  shadow  of  the  ap- 
proaching storm. 

"I  hope  Hubert's  sailing  party  will  return  before 
that  cloud  bursts  over  us,"  Florence  said,  as  she 
made  ready  to  go. 

"There  is  not  a  boat  in  sight,"  Delane  remarked, 
looking  out  across  the  sea. 

"He  may  not  be  sailing  at  all,"  Susan  put  in 
cheerfully.  "I  find  that  hotel  clerks  and  officials 
generally  are  a  very  unreliable  source  of  informa- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  223 

tion.  Whether  the  liberal  system  of  education  of 
which  America  is  so  proud  or  a  certain  dullness  of 
brain  causes  this  vagueness,  is  more  than  I  can  say. 
But  I  do  know  that  scarcely  anywhere  on  the  Con- 
tinent or  in  England  is  there  such  casualness  about 
small  things  as  one  finds  right  here  in  this  country." 

"You  have  the  wrong  audience  if  you  are  going 
to  attack  the  sacred  institutions  of  our  land,"  Flor- 
ence interrupted. 

"I  am  not  criticizing  America,"  Susan  replied 
quickly.  "I  love  it.  Would  I  stay  here  so  long  if 
I  didn't  like  it?  But  I  often  wonder  why  the  rank 
and  file  of  people  consider  themselves  so  infinitely 
superior  to  all  other  races  under  the  sun,  when  they 
show  such  an  inaptitude  to  the  little  things  of  life, 
which  are  really  the  only  things  that  make  life  at  all 
possible.  Doesn't  a  telephone  girl  nearly  always 
show  a  surprising  degree  of  inattention  to  what  you 
are  trying  to  say  to  her,  and  soda-fountain  clerks 
ask  you  twice  what  drink  you  want  before  you  get 
it?  Perhaps  specializing  in  the  higher  branches  of 
science  and  night  schools  befuddles  the  brain  and  is 
the  explanation  of  the  somnambulent  attitude  of 
the  proletariat  in  the  daytime." 

"You  are  very  amusing,"  Florence  said,  as  she 
kissed  Susan  good-by,  "and  I  would  like  to  stay  and 
explode  your  arguments.  But  I  know  that  you 
never  could  be  convinced  that  over  here  we  are 
quite  up  to  the  mark  of  European  standards." 

"You  are  way  beyond  it,"  Susan  answered. 
"That  is  the  trouble.  You  have  jumped  from  the 


224  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

first  rung  of  the  ladder  to  the  top,  and  consequently 
are  a  little  dazed  by  it.  The  European  is  a  perfect 
child  beside  you ;  but  at  each  step  of  his  civilization 
he  has  had  his  feet  firmly  on  the  ground.  He  hasn't 
skipped." 

"Well,  if  he  hasn't,  I  must,'f  Florence  said  hur- 
riedly, as  she  started  off  with  Delane. 

The  rain  was  just  beginning  to  fall  as  they  rode 
down  to  the  station.  The  sky  was  very  dark,  and 
the  sea  had  been  blotted  out  entirely  by  the  clouds 
that  were  rolling  in  from  the  east.  When  they 
reached  the  station  there  was  no  one  there, — not 
even  the  ticket  clerk  or  station  agent.  There  was 
no  evidence  of  an  approaching  train  or  of  one  that 
had  just  left.  Florence  looked  at  Delane  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Have  we  missed  it?"  she  asked. 

"It  is  more  likely  that  Susan  has  missed  it,"  De- 
lane  replied.  "She  probably  does  not  understand 
our  time-tables  any  more  than  so  many  other  things 
about  us  which  she  fails  to  grasp." 

"I  thought  you  were  Susan's  champion,"  Flor- 
ence interrupted. 

"I  am,  except  when  she  goes  on  the  way  she  did 
this  afternoon.  She  ought  to  know  that  America  is 
a  pretty  fine  country  in  spite  of  everything." 

"It  was  because  of  Mr.  Rothwell,"  Florence  con- 
tinued. "She  knew  he  hadn't  gone  sailing  and  was 
annoyed  when  the  clerk  at  the  hotel  would  not  throw 
any  light  on  the  subject.  But  what  are  we  to  do 
if  there  isn't  a  train?" 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  225 

"Oh,  I  will  get  you  to  town  all  right,"  Delane 
said,  going  into  the  station. 

The  schedule  on  the  board  was  examined,  and 
it  was  found  that  Susan's  "five-four"  ran  only  on 
Sundays.  The  local  and  earlier  train  was  the  only 
one  on  week  days  until  a  train  somewhat  late  in  the 
evening. 

"That  evening  train  will  never  do,"  Florence  said 
dolefully.  "Max  will  be  gone  by  that  time." 

"Don't  you  worry,  my  dear  lady,"  Delane  said. 
"Jump  into  the  machine,  and  I  will  get  you  up  to 
town  sooner  than  the  train  would  have  done." 

"I  am  sure  of  that,"  Florence  replied.  "Sooner 
than  the  train  that  runs  only  on  Sundays.  But  how 
about  the  storm,  and  your  dashing  off  to  Boston 
just  after  you  have  come  down  here  to  visit  Susan? 
Besides,  she  will  be  horribly  nervous  if  we  are  to 
have  a  regular  tempest." 

"I  am  not  worrying  about  her,"  Delane  laughed. 
"As  for  myself,  I  can  get  back  here  to-night." 

Florence  tried  to  look  cheerful,  but  she  felt  any- 
thing but  that.  Delane  was  driving  his  own  car,  a 
speedy  little  roadster;  and  the  prospect  of  a  ride 
with  him  to  town  was  not  altogether  to  her  fancy. 
On  Delane's  part,  he  was  only  too  glad  that  his  big 
car  and  chauffeur  were  not  on  the  scene;  for  in 
that  case  there  would  have  been  small  excuse  for  his 
going  along  too. 

But  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do  but  go,  if 
Florence  wished  to  see  Max  that  night.  So  they 
were  off  in  the  wind  and  rain ;  and  Delane  promised 


226  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

that  he  would  outride  the  storm,  which  now  was 
coming  rapidly  upon  them  with  all  the  accompani- 
ment of  lightning  and  thunder.  The  top  of  the 
car  was  up,  the  side  curtains  put  on,  and  everything 
made  as  tight  as  possible  for  a  journey  which  was 
bound  to  be  wet.  On  account  of  the  beating  rain, 
it  was  hard  to  see  any  distance  ahead,  but  they 
made  good  time,  and  Florence  was  not  more  than 
moderately  uncomfortable  in  spite  of  the  almost  in- 
cessant flashes  of  lightning.  However,  she  was 
getting  wet  and  cold,  and  Delane  suggested  that 
they  stop  for  supper  at  some  inn  on  the  road;  but 
Florence  said  that  would  only  delay  them  and  that 
she  was  not  hungry. 

Then  something  happened,  which  of  course  is 
to  be  expected  in  the  best  of  weather  where  motors 
are  concerned.  Delane  got  out  in  the  rain  and 
tinkered  with  the  engine.  At  last  he  said  he  knew 
what  was  the  matter,  but  that  he  must  stop  at  the 
next  village  and  get  a  garage  to  fix  him  up.  There 
was  really  nothing  seriously  wrong  with  the  car ;  but 
Delane  wished  to  make  as  much  of  it  as  possible, 
thinking  a  stop  for  supper  would  be  pleasant  and 
feeling  sure  that  in  spite  of  the  delay  he  could 
make  town  before  Kendall  left.  When  Florence 
was  assured  of  this,  she  was  not  at  all  loath  to  eat 
and  dry  herself  a  bit;  for  the  storm  had  pursued 
them  all  the  way,  and  the  rain  was  beating  in  from 
every  side.  A  mile  or  two  farther  on,  they  came 
to  a  brightly  lighted  house  somewhat  back  from  the 
road,  which  advertised  chicken  dinners  and  made  a 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  227 

speciality  of  hearty  food  beneath  its  modest  sign  of 
"tea  house." 

A  big  fire  was  blazing  in  the  dining  room,  and 
Delane  escorted  Florence  to  a  table  in  the  angle  of 
the  chimney,  which  position  served  to  dry  them  off 
while  the  candlelight  and  glow  from  the  fireplace 
made  them  as  cozy  and  comfortable  as  could  be 
desired.  Florence  knew  perfectly  well  when  she 
sat  down  to  supper  that  her  companion  would  be- 
come sentimental.  The  way  he  leaned  toward  her 
across  the  table,  smiling  pleasantly  all  the  while, 
showed  clearly  what  was  in  his  mind.  She  was 
hardly  prepared,  though,  for  his  rather  all-embrac- 
ing remark  when  he  said,  "The  only  time  I  am  really 
happy  is  when  I  am  with  you." 

After  which  he  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  take 
Florence's,  which  was  resting  on  the  table,  and  con- 
tinued, "I  hope  you  don't  mind  me  being  quite  frank 
with  you.  I  never  had  the  knack  of  beating  around 
the  bush  and  saying  a  lot  of  things  I  didn't  mean." 

"Perhaps  frankness  is  the  best  way  for  both  of 
us,"  Florence  replied,  withdrawing  her  hand.  "But 
I  thought  that  day  on  the  beach  had  settled  all 
this  between  us.  I  am  sure  if  you  really  care  for 
me,  you  will  not  bring  up  this  subject  again." 

"But  you  ran  away  from  me,"  Delane  persisted; 
"and  I  was  left  not  knowing  what  your  state  of 
mind  might  be." 

"A  little  intuition  would  have  told  you." 

"A  man  is  not  supposed  to  have  any;  the  women 
have  a  monopoly  of  that  article." 


228  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Then  using  my  intuition  for  want  of  yours," 
Florence  went  on  quietly,  ''I  say  that  I  know  exactly 
what  is  in  your  mind.     My  advice  is  that  you  eat 
your  supper  and  stop  thinking  of  me." 
"I  never  could  stop  thinking  about  you." 
"There  is  no  time  like  the  present  for  trying." 
"Won't  you  just  let  me  make  a  confession;  tell 
you  one  thing?" 

"If  it  isn't  too  personal,  perhaps,"  Florence  an- 
swered. 

"I  have  written  letters  to  you,  telling  you  how  I 
feel  about  you,  and  then  have  torn  them  up  for 
fear  they  would  make  you  angry,  or  get  into  Max's 
hands." 

Florence  made  no  reply.  She  looked  down  at 
her  plate,  feeling  a  sudden  wave  of  pity  for  this 
man  who  so  evidently  was  smitten  pretty  badly  by 
love.  What  a  comedy  the  whole  thing  was:  her 
deep  regard  for  some  one  else  and  Delane's  devo- 
tion to  her,  but  all  at  cross-purposes  and  coming 
in  each  case  against  a  blank  wall. 

"I'll  show  you  one  or  two  of  the  letters  some  day," 
Delane  began  again,  "if  you  want  to  see  them.  I 
just  couldn't  destroy  them  all  because  they  expressed 
so  well  what  I  feel." 

Florence  tried  to  laugh  and  consider  the  whole 
thing  as  a  joke. 

"The  next  thing  I  know,"  she  said,  "you  will  be 
publishing  them  under  the  title  of  'Letters  of  a 
Love-sick  Youth.'  " 

This  evidently  hurt  Delane  a  little.     He  made  no 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  229 

answer  but  stared  straight  at  Florence  for  a  moment, 
finally  saying,  "I  guess  you  don't  understand." 

"I  only  meant,"  she  returned,  "that  people  like 
to  appear  in  print  these  days,  especially  about  mat- 
ters nearest  their  heart.  Come,  Jim,"  she  went 
on,  thinking  that  perhaps  a  familiar,  friendly  sort 
of  attitude  would  serve  the  quickest  to  turn  his 
thoughts  into  another  channel,  "I  am  too  old  not  to 
know  my  own  mind.  You  know  I  am  not  in  love 
with  you.  How  can  you  expect  me  to  listen  to  you 
when  you  talk  in  this  way?" 

The  directness  of  her  remarks  evidently  had  their 
effect  upon  him.  He  was  silent  a  long  time  and 
scarcely  looked  up  from  the  table. 

At  last  Florence  said,  "I  wish  you  would  tele- 
phone to  my  house  and  see  if  Max  is  still  there." 

Delane  hurried  away  to  do  this;  he  could  get  no 
answer  over  the  line  to  Boston  and  consumed  sev- 
eral minutes  in  the  men's  room,  having  some  rather 
generous  drinks  from  the  flask  of  a  friend  whom 
he  ran  into  and  who,  like  himself,  was  marooned 
by  the  storm.  When  he  came  back  to  the  table,  his 
face  was  a  trifle  flushed,  but  he  seemed  quieter  than 
usual,  and  Florence  thought  there  was  no  more 
danger  of  his  breaking  into  rhapsodies  about  herself. 

The  supper  was  finished;  and  a  little  after  seven 
they  were  on  their  way  again.  The  storm  had 
gone  on  before  them,  leaving  only  a  spattering  of 
rain  and  a  gusty  wind.  Delane  drove  rapidly  and 
said  nothing.  Florence  was  beginning  to  feel  quite 
comfortable,  realizing  that  she  would  soon  be  home 


230  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

with  time  for  a  quiet  chat  with  Max  before  he  took 
his  train.  They  entered  Boston  through  the  Fenway 
and  could  see  all  about  traces  of  the  storm :  branches 
were  lying  across  the  road,  sand  and  dirt  were 
flowing  into  great  pools,  and  everywhere  was  that 
washed-out,  dejected  look  which  a  city  has  after 
being  swept  clean  by  torrents  of  rain.  People  were 
scarce  upon  the  streets ;  a  broken  umbrella  lay  in  the 
gutter,  and  from  the  upper  stories  of  houses  faces 
looked  out  to  inspect  the  sky.  The  sky  itself  was 
fitfully  lighted  by  distant  flashes,  and  a  few  dark 
clouds  hurried  over  its  surface,  trying  to  catch  up 
with  the  main  division  of  the  storm.  Like  an  army 
that  has  passed  through  a  country,  the  tempest  leaves 
its  marks  of  grimness. 

There  were  no  lights  in  the  Kendall  house  as 
Florence  and  Delane  went  up  the  steps.  In  the 
vestibule  she  turned  the  electric  switch;  but  no 
light  was  forthcoming.  Delane,  stepping  into  the 
hall,  struck  a  match.  Florence  called  out,  "Max, 
Max!  Are  you  here?"  Delane's  match  went  out; 
she  advanced  a  few  steps  into  the  living  room ;  the 
front  door  closed  behind  her,  and  utter  darkness 
reigned. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Florence  was  not  at  all  sure,  as  she  groped  about 
in  the  blackness  of  the  room,  whether  Delane  had 
come  in  behind  her  or  was  waiting  outside.  There 
was  something  terrifying  in  the  silence  and  dark- 
ness. She  tried  to  find  the  electric  light  in  the 
living  room,  and  stumbling  against  a  chair,  heard 
what  sounded  like  a  book  fall  heavily  to  the  floor. 
Then  Delane's  voice  came  from  the  far  end  of  the 
room. 

"I  guess  the  storm  has  put  the  lights  on  the 
blink,"  he  said. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  she  answered,  and  hurried  into 
the  dining  room  to  fetch  the  candelabra.  There 
were  only  two  candles  in  this  which  she  could  light ; 
she  came  back  into  the  front  room  and  asked  De- 
lane  for  a  match.  He  came  toward  her,  knocking 
against  something  on  the  way ; .  and  then  she  saw 
the  flame  of  his  match.  He  lighted  the  candles  and 
placed  them  on  a  table  by  the  wall.  They  were 
just  below  a  large  oil  painting  of  Florence's  father 
and  showed  up  the  features  of  his  face  in  a  very 
effective  manner.  The  picture  seemed  like  one  of 
the  old  masters  from  the  high  light  which  the  candle 
threw  upon  the  face.  The  portrait  was,  in  fact, 
the  only  thing  in  the  room  that  could  be  seen  at  all 


232  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

clearly,  and  the  splendid  old  gentleman  dominated 
the  scene. 

"That's  a  grand  picture,"  Delane  said.  "Of  your 
father,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,"  Florence  murmured  in  reply. 

The  two  flickering  flames  were  not  sufficient  to 
illuminate  the  big  room;  and  Florence  was  aware 
of  the  long  shadow  of  her  companion,  thrown  in  a 
huge  mass  against  the  wall  and  ceiling.  It  seemed 
to  hang  over  her  and  the  entire  apartment. 

"I  must  see  if  anything  has  happened  to  Max," 
Florence  said,  and  started  out  of  the  room  with  the 
candles,  leaving  Delane  in  darkness  again. 

She  went  upstairs  and  into  Max's  room.  There, 
by  the  dim  light,  she  saw  that  his  bag  and  the  dis- 
patch box  which  he  always  carried  on  his  business 
trips  were  gone.  Max  had  left  a  note  for  his  sister 
on  the  table  in  the  hall,  telling  her  that  he  was 
starting  on  an  earlier  train  than  he  had  expected  to 
take;  but  of  course  Florence  did  not  discover  this 
in  the  darkness.  She  wished  she  could  speak  with 
Susan,  to  have  communication  with  the  outside 
world,  now  that  she  found  herself  alone  in  the 
house  with  Delane.  It  was  certainly  awkward  that 
he  should  have  come  in  with  her.  Yet  she  realized 
that  if  it  had  been  a  question  of  Rothwell,  she 
would  have  been  extremely  annoyed  if  he  had  not 
come  in, — leaving  her  to  enter  the  dark  house  alone. 
She  was  not  exactly  afraid,  but  she  was  distinctly 
uncomfortable.  She  heard  a  door  open  and  close 
downstairs.  What  could  Delane  be  doing?  She 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  233 

felt  she  must  talk  with  Susan ;  to  say  that  she  had 
arrived  home  all  right  and  find  out  how  her  friend 
had  come  through  the  storm.  The  telephone  exten- 
sion was  in  her  room.  She  picked  up  the  receiver 
and  sat  waiting  in  the  light  of  the  candles  for  an 
answer.  There  was  no  response.  Repeated  at- 
tempts to  get  "Central"  were  of  no  avail.  The 
lightning  and  wind  undoubtedly  had  upset  the  tele- 
phone system  as  it  had  the  lights.  For  a  moment 
Florence  was  really  frightened.  With  no  lights,  no 
telephone,  to  be  alone  with  Delane  in  this  great  house 
made  her  uneasy.  Of  course  she  could  call  down- 
stairs to  him,  say  good  night,  and  retire  to  her  room 
and  go  to  bed,  leaving  the  gentleman  below  to  make 
his  exit  when  he  would.  But  this  seemed  very  un- 
sportsmanlike, especially  since  he  had  brought  her 
to  town  and  was  cold  and  wet  like  herself.  She  took 
up  the  candelabra  again  and  went  down  to  the 
living  room.  She  could  see  the  spot  of  Delane's  cig- 
arette, as  he  sat  in  the  corner,  smoking. 

"I  thought  you  were  not  coming  back,"  he  said, 
getting  up  as  she  came  into  the  room. 

"I  was  almost  minded  not  to,"  Florence  replied; 
"for  I  am  really  very  tired,  as  I  am  sure  you  are.  I 
shall  go  straight  to  bed  after  giving  you  something 
to  eat, — that  is,  if  there  is  anything  to  eat  in  the 
house.  You  see  we  have  had  no  maids  this  summer 
and  have  been  getting  our  meals  out  most  of  the 
time." 

"Aren't  you  afraid  to  stay  alone  in  this  big 
house?"  Delane  said,  after  a  moment. 


234  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"It  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  been  here  alone  at 
night.  Max  is  away  occasionally." 

Delane  sat  down  and  lighted  another  cigarette. 

It  occurred  to  Florence  that  it  might  be  difficult 
to  get  rid  of  him.  He  was  making  himself  com- 
fortable in  the  big  chair  and  gave  no  indication  of 
leaving.  She  had  proposed  something  to  eat,  as  a 
man  is  likely  to  terminate  a  visit  after  he  has  been 
fed. 

"You  might  light  the  fire,  if  you  are  cold,"  Flor- 
ence said,  "and  I  will  see  what  I  can  produce  in  the 
way  of  food." 

"Please  don't  bother  on  my  account,"  Delane  re- 
plied. "But  I  will  make  a  fire,  for  I  know  you 
must  be  cold  after  the  ride." 

While  he  was  busy  getting  the  logs  to  burn, 
Florence  went  out  to  the  pantry  and  was  able  to 
extract  from  a  rather  empty  cupboard  a  box  of 
sardines  and  some  plain  crackers.  She  brought 
these  things  into  the  dining  room  and  told  Delane 
to  come  out  and  help  himself.  A  cup  of  tea  would 
have  tasted  very  good  to  her ;  but  she  knew  it  would 
take  some  time  to  boil  the  water,  and  her  main  idea 
was  to  get  the  improvised  luncheon  over  as  soon  as 
possible  and  see  the  last  of  her  companion. 

"There  is  a  bottle  of  supposedly  Canadian  Club 
whisky  in  the  sideboard,  if  you  want  to  take  a 
chance  on  it,"  she  said,  as  she  came  back  from  the 
pantry. 

"A  drop  to  warm  me  up  will  do  the  business  in 
first-rate  style,"  Delane  said,  as  he  took  out  the  bot- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  235 

tie  and  poured  himself  a  decidedly  liberal  "drop." 

"I  can't  vouch  for  it,"  Florence  went  on;  "but 
if  it  hasn't  killed  Max,  I  guess  you  will  survive." 

The  one  source  of  light  was  placed  in  the  middle 
of  the  dining-room  table;  and  Florence  and  her 
companion  sat  down  to  a  very  frugal  repast,  made 
somewhat  better  for  Delane  by  his  drink  of  whisky. 
They  munched  crackers  and  said  nothing.  Delane's 
silence  was  becoming  rather  trying  to  Florence,  al- 
though she  much  preferred  to  have  him  that  way 
than  in  a  too  talkative  mood.  How  irritating  the 
whole  thing  really  was,  she  thought.  A  tete-a-tete 
has  such  infinite  possibilities  but  is  so  dreadful  with 
the  wrong  person. 

"It  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  bring  me  to  town 
in  this  storm,"  Florence  said.  "And  I  want  to 
thank  you.  I  must  say  good  night,  though,  very 
soon." 

"It  isn't  late,"  Delane  remarked. 

"Not  very  late,"  Florence  replied,  "but  you  must 
remember  that  we  have  had  a  hard  ride.  I  should 
think  you  would  be  tired  yourself." 

"No,  I  am  not  tired.  I  am  never  tired  when  I 
am  with  you." 

There  was  a  pause  in  which  Delane  took  a  few 
more  drinks  from  his  glass. 

"I  wish  you  liked  me.  I  wish  you  could  feel 
the  way  I  do." 

He  got  up  and  poured  himself  another  glass  of 
whisky  and  then  sat  down  again  opposite  to  Flor- 
ence. 


236  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"I  shall  have  no  desire  to  feel  as  you  do  if  you 
take  any  more  of  that  moonshine  bottled  in  bond," 
she  declared,  trying  to  be  facetious  when  she  felt 
decidedly  otherwise.  "Please  don't  drink  any 
more." 

"Just  this  one,"  Delane  answered.  "Drink  never 
affects  me." 

There  was  a  long  silence  while  he  sat  looking  at 
Florence  across  the  table.  His  gaze  seemed  to 
destroy  her;  to  absorb  her  whole  being  and  make 
her  shrink  within  herself.  The  same  feeling  of 
alarm  came  over  her  which  she  had  experienced 
when  alone  upstairs.  She  had  seen  cats  look  at 
people  the  way  Delane  was  looking  at  her  now. 
Florence  had  never  liked  cats;  perhaps  that  was 
why  she  did  not  like  this  man. 

"I  could  sit  here  and  talk  to  you  all  night,"  he 
said.  "I  could  just  sit  here  and  look  at  you  and 
be  perfectly  happy." 

"Perhaps  you  could,"  Florence  was  quick  to  in- 
terrupt; "but  I  think  you  won't." 

She  made  a  movement  to  leave  the  room,  when 
she  was  suddenly  aware  that  Delane  had  arisen 
and  was  standing  directly  in  front  of  her  and  very 
close. 

"You  talk  about  the  lower  classes;  you  work 
among  them,"  he  was  saying;  "but  why  can't  you 
have  a  little  compassion  for  me?  Why  must  you 
reckon  me  so  out  of  your  world  that  you  set  yourself 
against  me  and  torment  me,  and  make  me  wild  with 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  237 

the  thought  that  you  are  so  far  above  me  that  I 
may  never  have  your  love?" 

"What  you  are  saying  is  absurd,"  Florence  an- 
swered hastily.  "I  never  considered  you  other  than 
as  the  friend  of  my  brother,  the  man  who  has  done 
so  much  for  him.  I  have  great  admiration  for  you, 
but  I  don't  love  you  and  never  can.  Please  don't 
make  me  say  this  to  you  again  and  again.  It  will 
make  our  seeing  each  other  very  hard." 

"I  could  make  you  happy.  What  more  do  you 
want?" 

"A  great  many  women  ask  nothing  more;  they 
do  not  even  know  the  meaning  of  love  when  they 
marry.  But  I  am  not  like  that ;  nothing  could  ever 
make  me  want  to  be.  Besides,"  she  added,  "I  am 
happy  as  I  am." 

"Does  deep  and  lifelong  devotion  mean  nothing 
to  you?" 

"I  can't  listen  to  you  when  you  talk  this  way." 

"I  will  make  you  listen  to  me;  I  will  make  you 
love  me." 

"Is  there  anything  more  I  can  get  for  you?" 
she  asked,  not  knowing  what  he  was  going  to  say 
or  do  next  and  feeling  that  the  sooner  she  got 
away  from  him  the  better. 

"I  don't  want  anything — " 

"Then  I  must  leave  you." 

"I  don't  want  anything — but  you !"  Delane  gasped 
hurriedly. 

He  took  a  step  nearer  to  Florence,  almost  pres- 


238  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

sing  her  against  the  table.  He  was  speaking  very 
quickly,  with  his  face  close  to  hers. 

"Since  knowing  you,  I  have  never  wanted  any- 
thing else.  I  have  never  thought  of  anything  else 
or  anybody  but  you.  The  image  of  you  is  in  my 
heart;  your  beauty  haunts  me  and  drives  me  mad. 
I  talked  some  fine  language  to  you  down  there  at 
the  shore  last  summer;  but  I  didn't  say  half  the 
things  I  wanted  to.  Now  you  must  hear  me ;  must 
know  what  I  feel." 

"Mr.  Delane — let  me  go;  I  won't  listen  to  you," 
Florence  said,  trying  to  get  away  from  him.  But 
he  was  holding  her  back  against  the  table,  and  she 
could  not  move. 

"Last  summer  I  didn't  have  the  courage  to  tell 
you  everything,"  he  went  on.  "I  knew  you  were  a 
lady,  that  you  were  Max's  sister,  and  I  wanted  to 
be  as  decent  as  I  could.  But  you  gave  no  heed  to 
me;  you  acted  as  if  you  were  frightened.  Now  I 
am  past  fear  of  frightening  or  hurting  you.  I 
only  love  you  madly,  wildly — call  it  anything  you 
will;  but  hear  me  out.  I  can't  go  on  the  way  I 
have  been,  feeling  about  you  as  I  do." 

In  this  last  there  was  the  cry  of  a  tortured  animal, 
of  some  one  on  the  rack  of  suffering;  and  it  sent  a 
cold  thrill  through  Florence.  In  a  flash  she  knew 
the  sort  of  situation  she  had  to  deal  with,  to  save 
herself  from  which  would  require  all  her  strength. 
How  she  hated  and  loathed  the  man  for  his  brutality 
and  lack  of  decency.  She  pushed  past  him  and 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  239 

stepped  out  into  the  room.     But  he  seized  her  hand 
and  drew  her  back. 

"Look  here !"  she  cried,  "We  will  have  no  hyster- 
ics. You  have  been  drinking  and  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying.  Let  me  save  you  before  you  for- 
get yourself  beyond  all  reason." 

"I  want  to  forget,"  Delane  continued  more  hur- 
riedly. "I  don't  care  what  you  think  of  me  after 
to-night.  I  only  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  dead 
serious;  that  you  can't  turn  me  aside  and  consider 
me  a  poor  lovesick  wretch  who  is  the  victim  of 
your  beauty.  Do  you  think  that  I  have  only  been 
flirting  with  you?  That  I  have  only  cared  for 
you  a  little  ?  Don't  you  know  that  I  have  loved  you 
from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  and  that  such 
love  as  mine  cannot  go  on  forever  in  this  blind  way  ? 
Seeing  you  and  being  with  you  to-day  have  driven 
me  mad.  Call  it  madness  if  you  will.  Love  is 
madness ;  anything  that  consumes  the  very  soul  and 
drives  every  thought  away  but  the  one  thought  and 
desire  for  you  is  madness.  I  don't  deny  it.  But 
say  that  you  will  love  me;  that  you  will  have  me. 
Why  is  one  man  so  different  from  another?  Why 
can't  you  love  me  as  well  as  some  one  else  ?  Surely 
you  are  human;  surely  what  I  feel  must  awaken 
something  in  you.  What  is  the  matter  with  me? 
Tell  me  that." 

"Let  go  my  hand!"  Florence  almost  screamed, 
trying  to  get  away  from  him.  "I  won't  let  you 
say  these  things  to  me.  Please  have  some  regard 


240  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

for  me  on  account  of  Max.     What  would  he  say  if 
he  knew  how  you  are  behaving?" 

She  pulled  away  suddenly  and  stepped  into  the 
living  room,  which  was  in  total  darkness.  Delane 
was  quick  to  follow  and  was  speaking  again  in  a 
husky  voice,  straight  into  her  face. 

"I  don't  care  what  Max  thinks.  He  has  never 
been  in  love.  I  don't  care  what  you  think.  You 
were  bound  to  find  out  some  time  or  other.  I 
couldn't  go  on  forever  smiling  and  dancing  attend- 
ance on  you  while  this  thing  was  in  my  heart. 
There  are  times  when  a  person  is  willing  to  give  up 
his  life  for  just  one  thing, — for  a  kiss  from  the 
woman  he  loves.  Let  me  have  that  kiss  and  leave 
you,  then  I  shall  know  what  it  is  to  be  happy.  I 
love  you.  All  your  scruples  and  all  your  fears 
cannot  stop  that  love.  Tell  the  sun  to  stop  shining ; 
tell  me  to  stop  loving  you ;  it  is  all  the  same." 

He  had  seized  her  hand  again  and,  almost  em- 
bracing her,  was  drawing  her  over  toward  the  fire- 
place, where  there  was  a  faint  glow  from  the  hearth. 
Florence  made  a  movement  as  if  to  strike  him. 
Suddenly  he  seized  her  in  his  arms;  and  pressing 
her  down  upon  the  sofa  which  was  in  front  of  the 
fireplace,  he  kissed  her  wildly,  holding  her  so  close 
in  his  embrace  that  she  could  make  no  effort  to  get 
away  and  stifling  every  cry  by  the  passion  of  his 
kisses. 

It  was  horrible ;  horrible  to  Florence  and  horrible 
to  Delane,  who  knew  somewhere  deep  in  his  sub- 
conscious self  that  he  had  done  the  unforgivable 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  241 

thing  and  had  killed  any  possible  regard  she  might 
ever  have  had  for  him.  One  of  those  supreme  mo- 
ments when  the  soul  is  annihilated  by  the  fire  of  the 
eternal  animal  of  which  man's  physical  self  is  made. 
What  an  irony  there  is  in  the  fact  that  the  heights 
to  which  a  great  love  brings  the  spirit  can  be  ren- 
dered into  the  very  dust  by  the  passion  which  springs 
from  that  love.  The  soul  through  love  comes  to 
dwell  on  a  kind  of  higher  plane  of  the  senses,  where 
life  is  quickened  and  made  more  beautiful;  and  then, 
a  certain  ultimate  point  having  been  reached,  the 
power  of  the  flesh,  which  denies  and  destroys,  hurls 
all  the  perfect  structure  into  the  abyss.  The  prince 
becomes  a  pauper;  the  man,  a  brute;  and  the  fine 
thoughts,  a  maelstrom  of  passion.  Through  the 
soul  in  its  development  to  the  perfect  love  comes 
the  realization  of  the  senses;  and  because  man  falls, 
through  the  sensual  experience  comes  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  spirit.  But  then  from  that  fall  and  that 
knowledge  he  rises  again  to  the  heights  with  his 
gaze  ever  fixed  on  the  stars.  But  Delane  did  not 
know  this.  Like  nearly  all  poor  mortals,  his  gaze 
was  earthward.  To  the  earth  he  had  dragged  and 
debased  his  love,  and  there  it  must  lie. 

At  last  there  was  a  frantic  struggle  on  Florence's 
part.  She  freed  her  arms,  and  almost  hurling  De- 
lane  from  her,  was  able  to  get  to  her  feet,  staggering 
and  feeling  that  in  a  moment  she  would  collapse. 

"Now  go,  go!"  she  managed  to  say.  "I  never 
want  to  see  you  again.  Never  come  into  my  house ; 
never  speak  to  me.  I  hate  you,  I  hate  you!" 


242  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

She  felt  her  way  uncertainly  across  the  room, 
trying  to  find  the  door. 

"What  about  Max?  What  about  Greenvale?" 
Delane  asked,  letting  himself  sink  heavily  on  to  the 
sofa,  with  his  head  in  his  hand,  and  pushing  back 
his  hair  like  a  man  dazed. 

"What  about  your  work  and  all  your  social 
theories?"  he  went  on,  not  knowing  what  he  was 
saying.  "You  are  only  a  proud  aristocrat,  after  all, 
and  you  consider  yourself  disgraced  because  a  real 
man  has  made  love  to  you." 

"Love!  You  call  that  love!"  Florence  gasped, 
as  she  braced  herself  against  a  chair  by  the  door. 
She  thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  "Please  go," 
she  murmured,  sinking  into  the  chair,  but  still 
keeping  her  senses. 

Delane  gave  no  heed.  "You  like  to  think  you 
are  one  of  the  people;  you  like  to  mix  with  the 
underworld  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  your  stupid, 
conventional  life.  You  send  prostitutes  into  the 
country,  thinking  you  can  reform  them  by  a  little 
fresh  air."  He  laughed  like  a  man  crazy.  "You 
bring  me  into  your  wild  scheme  for  these  girls,  and 
you  are  nice  to  me  because  I  can  be  of  use;  but  all 
the  while  you  hate  me  and  consider  me  outside  your 
circle.  Oh,  I  know  your  ways.  Have  you  ever 
called  on  my  sister?  Have  you  ever  asked  her  to 
your  home?  Haven't  you  always  felt  uncomfort- 
able when  I  was  around,  for  fear  I  would  do  or 
say  the  wrong  thing?  Well,  I  have  done  it  now. 
You  know  you  were  right, — that  may  be  some 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  243 

satisfaction  to  you;  and  I  know  damned  well  I  have 
been  a  fool.  I  was  an  idiot  to  have  loved  you ;  but, 
good  God,  how  could  I  help  that!" 

Florence  started  up  again.  She  knew  she  would 
scream  if  he  did  not  leave  her.  She  felt  dizzy  and 
could  hardly  walk. 

"Go,  go ;  I  beg  of  you,"  she  said  huskily. 

"Yes;  I  am  going,"  Delane  said,  moving  across 
the  room.  "You  have  nothing  to  be  afraid  of. 
Call  me  a  knave,  anything  you  like.  I  am  out  of 
your  class.  To-night  has  settled  it.  Have  done 
with  me ;  I  have  shown  you  what  I  am.  What  does 
your  brother  want  of  my  dirty  money?  I  have  in- 
sulted his  sister.  Tell  him  all  about  it, — I  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  him.  But  I  will  put  your 
prostitutes  out  of  Greenvale.  I  won't  have  a  re- 
spectable suburb  frequented  by  people  like  that.  I 
have  got  my  way  to  make  in  the  world.  It  isn't 
all  fixed  for  me  as  yours  is.  You  can  step  into 
your  slums  and  out  again  to  your  home  in  Marl- 
borough  Street;  but  I  won't  have  your  slum  prop- 
osition foisted  upon  Greenvale.  You  might  as  well 
know  that  now." 

He  had  gone  as  far  as  the  door.  Florence  had 
managed  to  drag  herself  into  the  dining  room  where 
she  was  trying  to  find  some  brandy  in  the  cupboard. 
She  was  terrified  lest  she  should  fall  senseless  be- 
fore Delane  should  leave  the  house. 

Getting  his  hat  and  coat  in  the  darkness,  he  finally 
passed  out  into  the  vestibule,  and  Florence  heard 
the  front  door  close  behind  him.  She  had  a  strange 


244  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

feeling  then  that  he  had  not  really  gone.  She  began 
to  tremble  violently,  and  cold  chills  of  terror  ran 
through  her.  With  a  little  cry  she  fell  in  a  heap 
on  the  dining-room  floor.  But  Delane  did  not  hear 
that  cry.  He  was  outside,  starting  his  motor  and 
cursing  the  gods  that  made  him. 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  failure  of  Delane  to  return  after  presumably 
leaving  Florence  at  the  station  had  caused  Susan 
some  little  uneasiness.  Of  course  the  storm  was 
very  bad,  and  he  might  have  met  with  a  mishap; 
but  in  that  case  she  certainly  would  have  heard  of  it. 
Having  expected  him  back  within  half  an  hour,  it 
was  difficult  to  find  an  explanation  for  the  non-ap- 
pearance of  her  guest.  Rothwell,  who  had  come  in 
to  steady  Susan's  nerves  during  the  worst  part  of 
the  thunder  and  lightning,  saw  nothing  unusual  in 
the  situation.  He  said  that  Delane  probably  had 
gone  on  to  town  with  Florence. 

"It  is  hardly  likely  that  she  would  let  him,"  Susan 
retorted,  "considering  her  dislike  of  him;  and  I 
don't  think  any  one  would  have  attempted  to  motor 
up  to  town  in  the  midst  of  such  a  storm."  After 
a  moment  she  added,  "Now  if  you  had  been  there, 
things  might  have  been  different.  You  are  a  great 
goose  not  to  pay  more  definite  attention  to  Flor- 
ence. Where  will  you  find  a  woman  her  equal?" 

"I  was  thinking  that  the  other  day,"  Rothwell 
said,  in  a  very  quiet  sort  of  tone. 

"Good  Lord,"  Susan  laughed.  "What  will  just 
thinking  accomplish!" 

"It  is  odd,  though,  that  they  did  not  telephone," 


246  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Hubert  went  on,  evidently  wishing  to  change  the 
subject  from  a  discussion  of  himself  in  his  relation 
to  Mrs.  Wainwright. 

"I  would  not  have  answered  the  'phone  if  they 
had.  It  is  very  dangerous  during  an  electrical 
storm." 

It  was  now  late  in  the  evening,  and  Rothwell  was 
just  about  to  go  back  to  his  hotel.  He  realized 
Susan's  nervousness  and  uncertainty  about  her 
friends  and  said  he  would  call  up  Boston  to  see  if 
Florence  had  arrived  home  all  right.  About  the 
time  that  he  was  told  by  the  local  operator  that  all 
the  lines  were  down,  Florence  was  just  regaining  her 
senses,  after  having  fainted  when  Delane  left  her. 

Locking  herself  in  her  room,  she  managed  to  get 
to  bed,  where  she  lay  for  hours  staring  vacantly  into 
the  night,  wondering  if  it  were  really  herself  who 
had  been  through  that  terrible  scene.  It  all  seemed 
too  dreadful  and  too  remote  from  anything  she 
could  have  imagined  as  happening  to  her.  She  had 
read  of  such  things, — of  brutal  men  attacking  de- 
fenceless women  and  making  them  succumb  to  their 
passion.  Of  course,  what  had  occurred  was  not 
so  bad  as  that;  but  her  soul  seemed  as  utterly  de- 
stroyed by  the  strength  of  Delane's  embrace  and  the 
madness  of  his  kisses  as  it  would  have  been  if  she 
had  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  some  more  un- 
speakable experience.  She  wondered  if  she  could 
ever  forget  it ;  if  the  terror  of  that  night  would  ever 
be  wiped  off  her  mind.  Terrible  things  have  a  way 
of  leaving  a  very  deep  and  lasting  imprint  upon  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  247 

soul.  It  is  as  though  the  tragic  were  written  with 
indelible  ink,  while  the  pleasant  and  happy  episodes 
of  life  are  sketched  lightly  upon  the  fancy  like  a 
Japanese  water  drawing,  having  all  the  charm  and 
elusiveness  of  those  impressions.  She  seemed  to 
have  grown  suddenly  old  within  a  few  hours.  The 
world  had  become  very  terrible  to  her. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  she  tried  again  to 
reach  Susan  over  the  telephone.  There  was  no 
reply,  and  she  knew  she  must  wait  until  morning 
before  getting  in  touch  with  the  outside  world. 
"The  outside  world."  That  was  the  way  everything 
seemed  to  her  now.  The  unexpectedness  and  horror 
of  the  scene  through  which  she  had  just  passed;  the 
darkness  of  the  house  and  the  flickering  candle 
light  against  which  Delane's  figure  had  appeared  so 
large  and  terrifying  to  her,  made  it  all  like  a  night- 
mare, a  memory,  a  dream  which  would  always 
haunt  her  and  which  she  could  never  share  with  any 
one.  Of  that  she  was  very  sure.  As  she  lay  star- 
ing into  the  blackness  of  her  room,  this  thought  had 
been  always  with  her, — that  no  one  could  ever 
know. 

There  was  the  outside  world,  the  world  of  activ- 
ity in  her  work;  Max's  world  in  relation  to  his 
business  and  to  Delane;  and  the  smaller  circle  of 
Rothwell  and  Susan,  who  at  the  present  moment 
seemed  to  play  a  very  small  part  in  her  affairs.  In 
all  her  points  of  contact  with  these  different  spheres, 
there  never  could  be  a  hint  or  suggestion  of  what 
had  occurred  between  Delane  and  herself.  She 


248  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

feared  what  Max  would  do  if  he  knew.  She  was 
too  proud  and  happy  in  her  Greenvale  experiment  to 
allow  that  to  be  destroyed  by  Delane,  if  there  should 
be  a  falling  out  between  him  and  her  brother.  It 
would  be  her  memory  of  this  awful  night  against 
all  these  outside  interests.  It  would  be  hard,  she 
knew,  to  keep  her  secret  in  the  face  of  having  to 
see  Delane  occasionally,  as  was  bound  to  happen. 
That  he  would  talk  and  go  to  Max  as  the  repu- 
diated lover,  as  the  man  who  had  it  on  his  conscience 
that  he  had  insulted  Kendall's  sister  and  brutally 
forced  himself  upon  her,  was  beyond  any  likeli- 
hood. Florence  understood  him  too  well  to  fear 
what  he  might  do.  Delane  only  talked  when  he  was 
successful;  his  personality  seemed  to  have  exist- 
ence only  when  things  went  his  way.  He  would 
never  admit  defeat,  either  in  a  matter  of  love  or  of 
business. 

Florence  did  not  know  much  about  the  details  of 
the  Greenvale  affairs,  but  she  was  perfectly  well 
aware  that  Delane  held  the  upper  hand  financially. 
Like  all  newly  made  men  however,  he  was  afraid 
of  scandal  and  would  not  be  likely  to  throw  Kendall 
down  and  have  it  published  broadcast  why  there 
had  been  a  break  in  their  relations.  On  the  other 
hand,  Kendall  was  the  sort  that  would  give  up  the 
whole  enterprise  and  ruin  himself  into  the  bargain 
if  his  sister's  honor  were  at  stake.  That  was  why 
Florence  knew  she  must  be  silent;  why  her  secret 
must  be  forever  shut  away  from  the  o'utside  world. 
She  must  be  silent  to  save  herself,  but  more  impor- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  249 

tant  a  thousand  times  than  that,  to  save  her  brother's 
career.  This  was  the  thought  which  was  constantly 
in  her  mind. 

It  seemed  impossible  that  life  would  ever  have 
quite  the  same  joy  for  her,  the  same  fresh  outlook. 
When  Delane  seized  her  roughly  he  had  hurt  her 
hands,  her  body  had  been  crushed;  but  it  was  her 
spirit  which  really  suffered.  Her  husband's  death 
had  made  her  feel  that  life  had  stopped  for  her; 
that  she  had  ceased  to  live  in  a  world  which  went 
on  just  the  same.  But  it  had  not  made  her  feel 
old.  This  last  episode  had  seemed  to  shrink  and 
shrivel  her  soul,  so  that  in  the  morning  she  was  al- 
most afraid  to  get  up  and  look  at  herself  in  the 
mirror.  When  the  morning  did  come,  Florence  had 
a  sensation  of  weakness  and  sickness  so  that  she  was 
not  at  all  sure  whether  she  would  be  able  to  go 
about  her  duties  for  the  day. 

The  committee  meeting  of  her  settlement  house 
was  scheduled  for  ten  o'clock.  Before  she  started 
for  it  she  was  able  to  get  Susan's  house  over  the 
telephone  and  was  told  by  the  maid  that  Miss  An- 
derton  had  gone  to  Boston  for  the  day.  That 
seemed  very  odd,  Florence  thought,  as  Susan  had 
distinctly  told  her  she  was  not  going  to  town  again 
until  she  packed  herself  off  for  the  winter.  Proba- 
bly Delane  had  not  gone  back  to  the  shore  the  night 
before,  and  Susan  scented  trouble.  At  any  rate, 
she  would  certainly  come  to  the  house  as  soon  as 
she  arrived  in  town,  and  Florence  knew  how  guarded 
she  would  have  to  be  with  her  friend.  Perhaps  the 


250  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

committee  meeting  would  be  the  best  place  for  her, 
both  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  Susan  and  taking 
her  mind  off  herself.  She  got  up  so  late  that  she 
had  just  time  to  make  it  and  went  out  feeling  very 
ill  indeed.  She  hoped  that  when  she  got  into  the 
fresh  air  and  saw  her  associates  of  the  Trumbull 
Square  House  she  would  feel  better. 

Only  a  few  people  were  there,  as  three  ladies  of 
the  committee  had  not  been  able  to  leave  their 
pressing  summer  duties  to  come  to  town  to  devise 
ways  and  means  for  the  winter  work.  After  a 
brief  consultation  as  to  the  funds  which  would  be 
necessary  for  the  new  work  to  be  undertaken,  and 
after  going  over  the  expenses  of  the  preceding 
season,  Mrs.  Montgomery  Johnson,  a  lady  whom 
Florence  scarcely  knew,  proposed  that  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright  should  prepare  a  paper  on  her  activities  in 
Greenvale,  as  she  and  several  of  her  friends  had 
heard  of  what  Mrs.  Wainwright  was  doing  with 
her  house  for  "fallen  girls,"  as  she  expressed  it,  in 
Boston's  newest  suburb. 

"We  think  it  awfully  interesting,  but  a  rather 
dangerous  venture,"  Mrs.  Johnson  went  on;  "and 
we  would  like  to  have  a  paper  on  the  subject  read 
at  our  next  open  meeting." 

"Oh,  really,"  Florence  said,  from  her  place  near 
the  center  of  the  room,  "what  I  am  trying  to  do 
with  a  few  girls  in  Greenvale  is  entirely  my  own 
personal  affair  and  is  in  no  way  connected  with  the 
Trumbull  Square  House  work.  It  would  be  most 
difficult  for  me  and  for  all  of  us  if  it  should  be 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  251 

considered  so ;  and  I  am  sure  I  did  not  expect  that 
you  would  even  hear  of  it." 

She  had  been  most  careful  throughout  in  her 
efforts  on  behalf  of  Gracie  and  Tommy,  that  what- 
ever she  did  for  them  should  be  quite  apart  from 
her  regular  work  in  the  slums.  It  was  very  evi- 
dent to  her,  as  it  would  be  to  any  one,  why  this 
should  be  necessary.  The  Trumbull  Square  House 
was  a  well-known  institution,  and  it  would  be  most 
hurtful  if  it  should  become  a  matter  of  common  talk 
that  the  House  was  sponsor  for  the  sort  of  thing 
which  Florence  had  undertaken.  The  scope  of  this, 
really  so  slight  in  so  far  as  it  had  any  bearing  on 
the  general  public,  would  be  misinterpreted  if  talked 
about  and  exploited. 

"How  many  girls  have  you  now  at  your  house 
in  the  country?"  Mrs.  Johnson  asked. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  I  would  rather  not  talk  about 
it,"  Florence  replied.  "I  was  able  to  place  two  un- 
fortunate girls  with  an  elderly  woman  to  look  after 
them  in  one  of  my  brother's  flats  in  Greenvale. 
That  is  about  all  there  is  to  it;  and,  as  you  will 
understand,  that  is  hardly  a  matter  about  which  I 
could  read  a  paper,  even  if  I  cared  to  do  so." 

She  hoped  that  this  rather  general  statement 
would  stop  any  further  discussion  of  her  interests 
in  Greenvale.  It  was  odd,  she  thought,  that  any- 
thing should  have  been  said  about  it  this  morning, 
— especially  after  what  Delane  had  thrown  out  the 
night  before  in  reference  to  the  fate  of  the  girls. 
Florence  had  felt  then  that  his  remark  was  merely 


252  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  angry  outburst  of  a  drunken  man;  but  she  was 
inclined  to  consider  it  more  seriously,  as  a  result 
of    Mrs.    Johnson's    inquiries.     Florence    reasoned 
that  there  was  really  nothing  Delane  could  do  to 
upset  her  plans.     Susan  held  the  lease  of  the  flat 
where   Mrs.   Potter  and   the   girls   were   installed. 
Delane  could  do  nothing  to  interfere  on  that  score. 
That  he  should  find  some  cause  for  complaint  of 
the  girls  seemed  hardly  likely,  as  Florence  had  every 
reason  to  believe  they  were  behaving  themselves ;  and 
the  longer  they  stayed  in  Greenvale,  the  easier  it 
would  be  to  manage  them.     However,  in  view  of 
Delane's  threat  and  of  what  Mrs.  Johnson  had  just 
said,  she  thought  it  might  be  advisable  to  get  them 
out  of  Greenvale  within  the  next  month  or  so  and 
place  them  permanently  in  work  of  some  sort,  as  she 
had  intended  doing  from  the  first.     Above  all,  she 
did  not  wish  any  publicity  in  connection  with  her 
plan  for  Gracie  and  Tommy,  and  the  fact  that  it 
was  being  talked  about  at  this  committee  meeting 
was  decidedly  distasteful  to  her. 

The  morning  dragged  on  wejarily,  with  much 
idle  talk,  many  figures,  and  long  pauses.  There  was 
much  scribbling  and  jotting  down  of  notes;  sugges- 
tions made  and  counter-suggestions,  and  a  some- 
what long  consultation  over  the  debit  and  credit 
columns  of  the  books  of  the  House.  Florence  had 
not  been  at  all  well  when  she  came  into  the  committee 
room;  but  now  she  was  feeling  positively  ill  and 
knew  she  must  get  home  as  soon  as  possible.  Just 
as  she  was  about  to  leave,  Miss  Roper,  the  executive 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  253 

head  of  Trumbull  Square  affairs,  took  her  aside  and 
asked  if  there  was  any  truth  in  the  statement  that  she 
was  running  a  house  somewhere  in  the  country  for 
fallen  girls. 

"Because,"  Miss  Roper  went  on,  "you  know  that 
is  a  subject  into  which  we  are  putting  a  great  deal 
of  study,  not  only  here  but  in  other  cities ;  and  if  you 
are  doing  anything  yourself  in  the  investigation  of 
this  particular  matter,  we  should  like  to  have  the  ben- 
efit of  it.     Of  course  this  House  as  an  organization 
must  be  very  careful  that  its  name  is  not  connected 
with  any  mere  experiment.     This  you  will  perceive 
yourself;  and  I  would  like  to  ask  you  as  a  favor  if 
you  will  be  very  careful  that  nothing  is  known  of 
what  you  are  doing.     Your  connection  with  our 
work  here  would  lead  people  to  believe  that  the  ven- 
ture in  Greenvale  was  part  of  our  scheme  in  social 
service  endeavors.     To  deal  effectively  and  properly 
with  the  fallen  girl  is  an  extremely  difficult  problem; 
and  the  Trumbull  Square  House  will  not  be  able  to 
undertake  anything  in  that  direction  until  the  final 
and  full  reports  of  the  Chicago  and  New  York  com- 
mittees have  been  made." 

"I  am  aware  of  all  that,"  Florence  said,  wonder- 
ing if  the  stream  of  Miss  Roper's  talk  would  ever 
end.  It  was  the  sort  of  thing  she  had  heard  so  often : 
the  very  thing  that  had  made  her  take  Gracie  and 
Tommy  into  the  country  to  see  what  she  could  do  for 
them  by  the  application  of  a  little  plain  humanity. 
She  felt  now,  more  strongly  than  ever,  that  final  re- 
ports of  committees  and  investigation  of  special  sub- 


254  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

jects  went  a  very  little  way  toward  reforming  char- 
acter. Character  was  at  the  base  of  the  whole  mat- 
ter, and  poor  relief  and  social  service  work  must  aim 
to  construct  that  as  the  foundation  for  any  effort 
they  would  make. 

She  really  could  not  stay  any  longer  in  the  over- 
heated room;  so  telling  Miss  Roper  that  she  would 
act  with  the  greatest  discretion,  she  made  her  adieux 
and  started  home.  Florence  would  have  liked  a 
bite  of  luncheon,  a  little  air  and  a  good  walk;  but  she 
felt  too  ill  for  any  of  these  things.  She  found  a  note 
under  her  door  announcing  that  Miss  Anderton 
would  return  at  one  o'clock.  This  was  a  great  re- 
lief to  her,  for  she  was  becoming  somewhat  alarmed 
by  her  growing  feeling  of  sickness  and  the  thought 
that  she  would  be  alone  in  the  house  if  anything 
happened  to  her.  She  threw  herself  down  on  her 
bed  to  await  Susan's  arrival.  When  the  bell  finally 
rang,  Florence  was  hardly  able  to  get  downstairs  to 
open  the  door;  and  Susan  was  horrified  to  see  her 
friend  looking  so  pale  and  haggard. 

"I  knew  something  had  happened  to  you,"  was 
the  first  thing  she  said.  "Come  upstairs  at  once 
and  let  me  put  you  to  bed.  Have  you  had  anything 
to  eat;  where  did  you  get  your  breakfast;  and  why 
couldn't  I  get  into  the  house  when  I  called  this  morn- 
ing?" Susan  went  on  rapidly.  "When  I  did  not 
hear  from  you  last  night,  and  Delane  telephoned 
early  this  morning  that  he  was  not  coming  back  and 
asked  me  to  send  his  bag  to  town  by  express,  I  de- 
cided to  put  on  my  hat  and  appear  on  the  scene  at 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  255 

once.     I  am  very  glad  I  did ;  although  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  ill,  my  dear.     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell,"  Florence  said  weakly. 
"The  ride* was  too  much  for  me ;  I  caught  cold,  and 
this  morning  when  I  really  should  have  stayed  in 
bed,  I  had  to  go  out  to  my  committee  meeting.  It 
was  there  I  began  to  feel  ill." 

"So  you  motored  all  the  way  to  town?"  Susan 
asked. 

"Yes;  it  was  all  because  of  your  wretched  train 
which  did  not  run.  I  thought  I  must  get  here  be- 
fore Max  left,  and  Delane  said  he  would  bring  me 
up.  We  had  a  horrible  ride.  I  think  I  never  was 
so  cold ;  and  it  simply  poured  all  the  way." 

"You  were  not  dressed  for  it,  and  in  an  open  car, 
— a  very  poor  arrangement,"  Susan  said  in  her  most 
matter-of-fact  manner.  "Max  must  have  been  sur- 
prised to  see  you  walking  in  out  of  the  storm,"  she 
added,  after  a  moment. 

"But  Max  had  gone,"  Florence  replied. 

"What  a  pity.     And  Delane?" 

"He  went  to  his  club  for  the  night,  I  suppose." 

As  Susan  sat  holding  Florence's  hand,  she  real- 
ized that  her  friend  was  in  a  high  fever;  and  that 
something  decisive  must  be  done  at  once. 

"I  shall  fetch  a  doctor  and  a  nurse,"  she  said, 
suddenly  getting  up. 

"It  seems   rather  absurd,"   Florence  murmured. 
'I  will  certainly  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

'Never  mind    about   to-morrow.     Who's   your 
doctor?" 


256  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Our  regular  physician  is  out  of  town;  but  Otis 
is  all  right, — Mortimer  Otis,  who  has  just  grad- 
uated from  the  medical  school.  It  will  buck  him  up 
a  bit  to  have  a  patient." 

"Then  I  will  telephone  him  now  and  also  have 
some  lunch  sent  in  to  you." 

Like  an  old  general  who  is  called  back  to  service 
in  an  emergency,  Susan  was  never  so  effectively  her- 
self as  when,  in  a  situation  of  difficulty,  she  could 
muster  and  direct  the  forces  at  her  command.  She 
was  able  to  reach  Otis  at  his  house,  and  the  young 
physician  said  he  would  come  over  immediately. 
In  which  case  Susan  thought  she  would  not  go  out 
until  he  arrived,  not  wishing  to  leave  her  patient 
alone  even  for  a  moment.  She  proposed  that  she 
should  go  downstairs  and  get  something  for  Flor- 
ence to  eat ;  at  which  Florence  quickly  sat  up  in  bed 
and  said  she  did  not  want  anything  to  eat;  that  the 
mere  idea  of  food  nauseated  her. 

"Besides,"  she  went  on  eagerly,  leaning  over 
toward  Susan,  "there  is  absolutely  nothing  in  the 
house  that  you  could  get  me." 

She   looked  very  strange  and   seemed   excited. 

"You  will  find  in  the  dining  room  the  remains 
of  what  I  was  able  to  get  hold  of  last  night, — a  few 
crackers  and  a  box  of  sardines.  I  was  rather  hun- 
gry. Delane  came  in  for  a  moment,  and  we  had 
something  to  eat."  She  looked  about  nervously. 
"I  know  there  is  nothing  else,  because  I  tried  to  find 
something  this  morning." 

This  was  really  not  so  at  all,  as  Florence  had 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  257 

hurried  out  of  the  house  without  even  looking  into 
the  rooms  on  the  lower  floor.  They  held  an  evil 
memory  for  her.  She  would  never  be  able  to  dis- 
associate them  from  the  blackness  of  that  night. 
She  had  thought  of  the  disorder  of  the  dining- 
room  table  and  wished  to  offer  Susan  some  expla- 
nation of  it  before  she  should  see  it  for  herself. 
What  she  had  quite  failed  to  realize  was  that  there 
was  a  considerable  amount  of  disorder  in  the  living 
room,  unobserved  by  her  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night  before.  Also,  that  the  bottle  from  which 
Delane  had  so  copiously  imbibed  was  still  standing 
on  the  table  where  he  had  left  it. 

"Then  I  will  go  out  and  fetch  some  food  as  soon 
as  Otis  gets  here,"  Susan  replied,  rather  dismayed 
by  her  friend's  sudden  excitability. 

"Oh,  that  is  all  right,— that's  all  right,"  Florence 
said,  sinking  back  on  her  pillow.  "I  don't  want 
anything;  the  doctor  will  probably  say  that  I  am 
not  to  have  anything." 

"At  any  rate,"  Susan  continued,  "I  shall  make 
an  investigation  of  your  pantry.  I  am  sure  I  can 
at  least  find  some  tea." 

"No,  I  can't  take  anything,"  Florence  exclaimed, 
seizing  Susan's  hand  and  detaining  her.  "Don't 
leave  me;  don't  go  downstairs."  And  turning  her 
face  away,  she  began  to  cry. 

"This  is  very  odd,"  Susan  thought.  Every  mo- 
ment she  was  more  mystified.  It  was  not  like 
Florence  to  be  hysterical,  to  suffer  from  nerves. 
She  was  one  of  the  calmest  people  Susan  had  ever 


258  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

known.  That  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  she  had 
been  so  successful  in  her  work,  carried  on  often  in 
situations  requiring  the  greatest  nerve.  Susan  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  She  tried  to  soothe  and 
comfort  her  friend  and  told  her  that  she  probably 
would  not  be  very  sick  but  that  she  would  send  for 
Max,  if  that  would  make  her  feel  more  comfortable. 

"No,  indeed,  don't  send  for  Max,"  Florence 
almost  wailed.  "He  would  only  be  alarmed,  and 
he  has  important  business  to  attend  to  in  New 
York." 

"Where  is  he  staying?" 

"It's  in  the  note,  there  on  my  table." 

It  was  the  note  Max  had  left  for  his  sister,  and 
which  she  had  found  that  morning  when  she  went 
out.  Susan  picked  it  up  and  read  that  Max  would 
be  at  the  Prince  George  Hotel  while  in  New  York. 
She  felt  rather  easier  after  having  gained  this  piece 
of  information,  for  she  certainly  would  send  for 
Kendall,  regardless  of  Florence's  wishes,  if  she 
thought  the  occasion  warranted  it. 

Shortly  after  this  Otis  came  in.  He  made  an 
examination,  found  a  very  high  temperature,  indi- 
cations of  hysteria,  and  pronounced  the  case  to  be 
one  of  threatened  pneumonia.  Allowing  for  the 
youth  of  the  physician,  Susan  interpreted  this  as  a 
very  bad  cold.  She  had  known  members  of  the  med- 
ical profession  before  who  always  found  symptoms 
of  pneumonia  and  thereupon  pulled  their  patients 
through  marvelously  to  recovery.  However,  it  was 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  259 

evident  to  any  one  that  Florence  was  seriously  ill; 
and  Susan  made  arrangements  with  Otis  to  have 
a  nurse  sent  in  at  once.  She  would  bring  her  own 
maid  up  from  the  shore  to  look  after  the  house. 
Then  she  slipped  quietly  downstairs. 

As  she  descended  to  the  lower  hallway,  she  was 
perfectly  well  aware  that  there  was  something  more 
behind  Florence's  condition  than  a  ride  to  Boston 
in  the  rain  and  a  rather  tiring  committee  meeting 
could  have  caused.  What  that  something  was  she 
had  no  way  of  rinding  out, — at  least,  not  for  the 
present.  To  see  that  Florence  was  properly  taken 
care  of  was  her  immediate  object.  However,  as 
she  glanced  down  the  lower  hall,  the  dining-room 
table  as  seen  through  the  doorway  arrested  her  at- 
tention. The  two  doors  into  the  living  room  were 
closed;  but  she  had  a  straight  view  into  the  room 
beyond.  The  bottle  of  whisky  and  the  disordered 
remains  of  the  luncheon  were  all  there  upon  the 
table,  as  they  had  been  left  the  night  before;  but 
now  with  that  added  effect  of  complete  demorali- 
zation which  daylight  always  brings  to  such  a  scene. 

Susan  stopped  short  and  then  proceeded  to  enter 
the  room  for  a  closer  inspection.  The  chairs  were 
in  a  rather  curious  position,  she  thought;  one  of 
them  evidently  having  been  pushed  away  hur- 
riedly from  the  table,  as  it  was  facing  the  wall 
with  its  back  toward  the  room.  Susan  hit  with  her 
shoe  the  glass  stopper  of  the  decanter  which  Flor- 
ence was  taking  out  of  the  cupboard  just  as  she 


2<5o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

fainted.  She  picked  it  up  and  put  it  back  where  it 
belonged.  There  were  cigarette  ashes  strewn  about 
the  table  and  also  on  the  rug.  Something  about 
the  disorder  of  the  place  and  the  bottle  of  spirits  on 
the  table  made  her  grow  suddenly  cold  with  a  curious 
feeling  of  alarm.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  scene  in 
which  she  could  picture  Florence  under  any  con- 
ditions. She  turned  and  saw  that  the  door  into  the 
living  room  was  wide  open.  She  hurried  in  there. 

The  first  thing  that  caught  her  eye  was  one  of  the 
small  chairs  overturned  and  a  book  lying  on  the 
floor.  She  moved  slowly  across  the  room  and  came 
to  the  fireplace  and  sofa.  Two  of  the  sofa  pillows, 
looking  very  much  tossed  about,  were  on  the  floor; 
the  other  one,  still  in  its  place,  was  crushed  as  though 
some  one  had  been  lying  on  it.  There  were  spots 
of  candle  wax  on  the  small  table  below  the  portrait 
of  Mr.  Kendall.  Also,  cigarette  ashes  and  more 
spots  of  candle  wax  here  and  there  upon  the  floor. 
Susan  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  utterly  dis- 
mayed. She  could  in  no  way,  however  remotely, 
connect  Florence  with  the  appearance  of  this  room 
as  she  found  it.  What  was  the  explanation  ?  Then 
she  saw  a  small  black-leather  cardcase  lying  on  the 
floor  near  the  sofa.  She  reached  down  and  picked 
it  up.  It  was  Delane's.  Several  of  his  cards  were 
in  it.  Susan  slipped  it  into  her  dress  and  stood  a 
moment  in  the  midst  of  the  general  disorder,  think- 
ing. 

Without  speaking  to  her  friend  upstairs,  she  went 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  261 

quickly  out  of  the  house.  Hurrying  to  the  nearest 
hotel,  she  sent  the  following  telegram: 

Mr.  Max  Kendall,  Prince  George  Hotel,  New 
York  City.  Florence  ill.  Not  serious,  but  please 
come  as  soon  as  possible. 

ANDERTON. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  next  few  days  were  busy  ones  for  Susan. 
She  closed  her  cottage  at  the  shore,  brought  her 
maid  up  to  town  to  run  the  Kendall  house,  and  in 
general  looked   out   for  Florence  and   everything 
connected  with  her.     Florence  did  not  have  pneu- 
monia; but  a  very  bad  cold  developed,  combined 
with  attacks  of  hysteria  which  rather  puzzled  the 
young  Doctor  Otis.     Max,  upon  receiving  Susan's 
wire,    had   telephoned    home    late    that    afternoon. 
Finding  that  his  sister's  condition  was  in  no  way 
alarming,  he  said  he  would  not  return  for  a  couple 
of  days  unless  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  as  it 
would  take  him  that  time  to  arrange  his  business 
affairs  in  New  York  so  that  he  could  leave.     He 
tried  to  get  Delane  at  the  Boston  office  to  see  if  he 
would  come  over  to  New  York  to  take  his  place; 
but  Delane  could  not  be  found.     The  head  man  at 
the  office  reported  he  had  not  put  in  an  appearance 
for  two  days.     It  was  supposed  that  he  was  at  the 
shore  visiting  Miss  Anderton,  as  he  had  given  that 
fonvarding  address  for  his  mail.     Susan  had  very 
little  time  to  think  of  Delane  or  to  wonder  where 
he  was.     However,  one  or  two  attempts  on  her 
part  to  get  him  by  telephone  were  without  result. 
She  said  one  morning  to  Florence  that  Delane 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  263 

could  not  be  found,  to  which  her  friend  made  no 
reply.  There  was  certainly  something  curious  in 
the  whole  business.  Susan  did  not  like  mysteries 
unless  she  herself  could  be  on  the  inside  of  the  mys- 
tery. It  was  especially  annoying  at  this  time,  when 
she  needed  all  her  attention  for  the  details  connected 
with  Florence's  illness.  But  things  of  which  she 
had  only  a  vague  knowledge  always  haunted  her, 
try  as  she  would  to  put  them  out  of  her  mind. 
One  day  she  interviewed  Doctor  Otis  and  asked  him 
what  he  thought  the  symptoms  of  hysteria  in  Flor- 
ence meant.  She  would  suddenly  burst  out  crying ; 
she  stayed  awake  at  night  and  insisted  that  she  did 
not  wish  to  be  left  alone.  Often  in  her  sleep  she 
would  moan,  "Let  me  go,  let  me  go,"  "The  light, 
the  light — I  must  have  light,"  all  of  which  was 
strange  and  unusual  for  a  patient  suffering  merely 
from  a  cold. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  she  said  to  Otis. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Wainwright  has  had  a  sudden 
fright;  has  been  terrified  by  something,"  he  replied. 
"It  is  probably  some  experience  she  has  had  in  the 
parts  of  town  where  she  works, — some  man  has 
frightened  her,  or  perhaps  tried  to  attack  her  when 
she  was  investigating  a  case.  Husbands  are  often 
not  any  too  willing  to  have  their  homes  invaded  by 
charitably  inclined  persons.  Of  course  the  cold 
itself  is  nothing  more  than  what  she  has  often  had ; 
the  sort  of  thing  one  is  likely  to  contract  in  the 
autumn." 

"I  am  perfectly  sure  there  is  something  behind  it 


264  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

all,"  Susan  went  on.  "I  know  certain  things  which 
make  me  think  this.  I  can  say  nothing  definite  to 
you  or  to  any  one  at  present;  but  I  would  advise 
you,  if  one  may  use  the  word  advise  to  a  doctor,  to 
treat  Mrs.  Wainwright  primarily  for  hysteria  and 
let  the  cold  take  care  of  itself." 

"It  might  be  well  to  have  in  Doctor  Randlett,  the 
nerve  specialist,"  Otis  said,  after  thinking  a  moment. 
"I  will  see  if  he  is  in  town." 

"Your  specialists  are  all  very  well,"  Susan  re- 
marked; "but  I  hardly  think  a  specialist  will  be 
able  to  discover  the  cause  of  this  particular  case." 

Otis  went  away  somewhat  mystified  himself  and 
thinking  Miss  Anderton  a  most  extraordinary  sort 
of  person. 

On  the  third  day  Kendall  arrived  from  New 
York.  Upon  seeing  him,  Florence  had  the  worst 
attack  of  hysteria  she  had  experienced  at  all.  She 
cried  and  begged  Max  not  to  do  anything,  to  say 
nothing.  Inquiries  as  to  what  he  should  say  noth- 
ing about  brought  no  information,  and  neither  Ken- 
dall nor  the  nurse  could  make  out  what  Florence 
was  talking  about. 

Susan  had  taken  possession  of  her  old  rooms  in 
the  third  story  where  she  stayed  when  she  first  came 
to  Boston  as  Florence's  guest.  She  was  literally  on 
top  of  the  Marlbo rough  Street  menage,  directing  the 
servants,  the  nurse,  and  even  making  attempts  upon 
the  doctor,  as  we  have  just  seen.  On  the  day  Max 
arrived  home,  she  was  sitting  with  him  after  dinner 
in  the  living  room,  and  she  hinted  to  him  that  there 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  265 

was   something  behind  Florence's   condition  about 
which  they  did  not  know. 

"In  my  opinion,  it  is  plainly  a  case  of  overwork," 
Max  replied. 

"How  can  you  call  it  overwork?"  Susan  asked, 
"when  your  sister  has  had  so  little  to  do  all  summer. 
Looking  after  her  girls  in  Greenvale  has  certainly 
not  caused  her  much  trouble,  or  worry  either.  And 
in  the  summer  months  her  duties  at  the  settlement 
house  are  very  slight.  The  actual  work  there  really 
only  began  the  day  she  was  taken  sick.  It  was  at 
the  first  committee  meeting  that  she  began  to  feel 
so  ill." 

"I  mean  her  exertions  of  the  past  year  or  so," 
Kendall  explained.  "The  effects  of  that  sort  of 
thing  are  usually  not  felt  at  once." 

"And  not  quite  in  this  way,"  Susan  put  in. 

"All  the  women  to-day  take  too  much  upon  them- 
selves," Max  went  on.  "I  think  that  is  why  so 
many  men  do  not  get  married.  They  know  that 
they  will  see  very  little  of  their  wives,  even  if  they 
decide  to  settle  down  and  have  a  home.  I  am  sure  I 
can  see  very  little  attraction  in  the  thing,  if  your 
wife  is  to  spend  all  her  time  playing  bridge  or  dash- 
ing about  doing  welfare  work.  Very  often  the  hus- 
band is  more  of  a  home  body  than  the  wife." 

It  was  quite  evident  that  he  did  not  regard  his 
sister's  illness  as  anything  about  which  to  become  un- 
duly alarmed.  He  was  the  sort  of  person  who  is  al- 
ways able  to  reckon  the  result  of  a  thing  from  the 
special  causes  that  he  may  have  in  his  own  mind. 


266  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

That  of  course  is  a  very  easy  way  to  get  through 
life,  but  it  is  likely  to  lead  to  surprises. 

Susan  was  not  sure  just  how  far  she  should  go, 
having  so  little  information  herself  as  to  what  took 
place  in  the  Kendall  home  on  the  night  of  the  storm. 
That  something  took  place  she  was  perfectly  certain. 
The  rooms  as  she  found  them  the  following  morn- 
ing testified  to  this  much.  And  then  Florence  had 
admitted  to  her,  when  she  was  trying  to  explain  to 
Susan  the  appearance  of  the  dining  room  and  the 
finding  of  the  decanter  of  brandy  half  removed  from 
the  cupboard,  that  she  had  fainted  when  she  reached 
home  after  the  ride  to  Boston  in  the  rain.  But  the 
fainting  business  only  furnished  Susan  with  another 
enigma ;  for  she  had  never  known  her  friend  to  faint. 
She  remembered  that  even  when  it  was  her  trying 
duty  to  announce  Jack  Wainwright's  death,  Florence 
had  been  calm  and  steady,  with  wonderful  courage. 

After  a  moment,  Susan  said  to  Kendall,  "Have 
you  seen  Delane  since  you  got  back  ?" 

"No,"  he  said.  "He  was  not  at  the  office  to-day; 
but  he  called  up  from  somewhere  in  the  country." 

"Did  he  say  where  he  was?" 

"I  don't  think  he  did.  Merely  said  he  would  be  in 
to-morrow  and  asked  to  have  his  mail  held  for  him." 

"I  suppose  you  did  not  talk  with  him,  and  that  he 
has  no  idea  Florence  is  ill,"  Susan  put  in. 

"How  should  he?" 

"I  was  only  wondering  why  he  has  not  called  up 
the  house  to  find  out  how  Florence  is  feeling  after 
the  rather  trying  journey  they  had  together." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  267 

"Journey  together.  What  do  you  mean?"  Max 
asked. 

"Didn't  you  know  that  he  brought  her  up  to  town 
in  his  motor  the  night  of  the  terrible  storm?" 

Max  made  no  answer.  Something  flashed  across 
his  mind  which  Florence  had  said  to  him.  When 
she  asked  him  if  Delane  ever  talked  about  her,  she 
had  also  asked  her  brother  if  he  would  wish  her  to 
reciprocate  Delane's  attentions  to  her.  The  conver- 
sation they  had  a  few  weeks  before  all  came  back 
vividly  to  him.  He  had  never  been  able  to  under- 
stand the  query  his  sister  made,  unless  it  had  been 
merely  to  try  out  how  far  his  personal  regard  for  his 
partner  in  business  went,  and  whether  his  attitude 
toward  him  as  a  friend  should  include  a  similar  tone 
in  Florence.  The  close  way  in  which  Susan  sat 
looking  at  him  now,  and  her  mention  of  Delane  and 
his  ride  to  town  with  Florence,  all  seemed  to  point 
to  the  fact  that  she  knew  something  which  he  did 
not;  that  perhaps  she  had  some  information  which 
she  would  like  to  share  with  him,  but  was  not  at  all 
sure  just  how  she  should  go  about  it.  It  is  very 
likely  that  the  attitude  of  suspicion  which  Max  had 
always  felt  in  respect  to  Susan  and  the  feeling  that 
there  was  a  double  purpose  in  nearly  everything  she 
said  or  did  caused  him  to  see  something  behind  her 
present  remarks.  The  way  she  spoke,  the  way  she 
looked  at  him,  made  him  slightly  uneasy. 

"I  knew  nothing  of  the  ride,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Since  my  arrival  to-day,  I  have  not  been  able  to 
talk  with  Florence.  She  appeared  so  upset  upon  see- 


268  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ing  me  that  I  thought  it  was  best  for  her  to  remain 
perfectly  quiet.  The  nurse  merely  told  me  that  she 
had  taken  a  severe  cold  on  the  night  of  the  storm." 

"It  seems  that  Florence  missed  her  train,"  Susan 
went  on ;  "Delane,  who  had  taken  her  to  the  station, 
offered  to  bring  her  all  the  way  to  town.  Of  course 
she  accepted  because  she  wished  to  get  here  before 
you  left ;  but  it  must  have  been  a  miserable  ride,  and 
she  is  suffering  for  it  now." 

Susan  wanted  immensely  to  go  on  and  tell  Kendall 
of  the  disordered  rooms  which  she  had  found  and 
of  what  she  suspected  as  to  a  scene  between  Florence 
and  Delane ;  but  she  distinctly  felt  it  her  duty  toward 
her  friend  to  say  nothing  of  this.  She  felt  sure  Max 
ought  to  know  if  anything  unpleasant  had  happened 
to  his  sister ;  but  with  Florence  in  her  present  condi- 
tion, it  hardly  seemed  her  place  to  say  anything  defi- 
nite, even  if  definite  facts  had  been  at  hand.  That 
was  the  whole  trouble, — that  she  knew  nothing  for 
certain.  That  was  why  she  would  like  to  see  Delane 
and  incidentally  present  him  with  the  cardcase  she 
had  picked  up. 

When  Max  went  to  the  office  the  next  morning  he 
found  that  Delane  had  arrived  before  him.  He  was 
amazed  at  the  appearance  of  his  partner.  He  looked 
old  and  worn  and  very  tired.  Although  as  neatly 
dressed  as  ever — in  fact,  to-day  rather  more  care- 
fully put  together  than  was  his  custom  during  busi- 
iness  hours — he  showed  all  the  marks  of  recent  dissi- 
pation. Max  knew  that  his  partner  drank  and  more 
heavily  during  the  past  year  than  he  used  to,  as  so 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  269 

many  moderate  drinkers  of  the  old  days  were  going 
in  for  the  thing  with  a  determination  not  to  be  frus- 
trated by  Federal  laws  and  prohibition  agents ;  but  he 
had  never  seen  him  really  intoxicated.  His  lack  of 
animation  and  the  expression  of  his  face  explained 
quite  clearly  his  absence  of  the  past  few  days.  He 
hardly  seemed  the  man  Max  had  known;  and  his 
casual  greeting  and  the  way  he  turned  immediately 
to  some  papers  on  his  desk  was  not  at  all  like  the  old 
genial  and  always  high-spirited  Jim. 

"Any  news  since  I  have  been  away  ?"  Max  asked. 

"Nothing  of  importance,"  Delane  replied.  "I 
have  been  out  of  town  myself.  Ask  Benton." 
Benton  was  the  head  man  at  the  office  now  and 
looked  after  the  details  connected  with  Greenvale 
affairs. 

Max  took  Benton  into  his  private  office  and  had  a 
long  consultation  with  him.  The  matters  in  New 
York  having  to  do  with  an  issue  of  bonds  which  the 
Greenvale  Holding  Company  was  putting  out  had 
to  be  gone  over  rather  carefully.  When  he  was 
through  with  Benton,  he  found  that  Delane  had  gone 
out  and  was  not  expected  back  until  after  luncheon. 
This  was  all  very  queer,  as  on  any  other  occasion  De- 
lane  would  have  been  eager  to  talk  with  him  and  dis- 
cuss the  latest  developments  in  their  business. 

He  seems  to  be  avoiding  me,  Max  thought,  as  he 
picked  up  his  hat  to  go  out.  In  the  hallway  he  ran 
into  Susan  Anderton.  He  was  rather  startled  when 
he  saw  her,  thinking  she  might  bring  bad  news  of 
Florence.  Susan  very  seldom  came  to  his  office. 


270  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

But  her  assertion  that  she  was  looking  for  Delane 
put  an  end  to  his  fears. 

"Come  out  to  lunch  with  me,"  Max  said.  "You 
won't  find  Jim  in  there  now." 

"Thank  you,  I  have  had  my  luncheon.  I  will 
wait  until  Delane  returns,"  upon  which  Susan  dis- 
appeared into  the  offices  at  the  end  of  the  hall. 

Max  was  now  becoming  disturbed  in  no  uncertain 
way.  That  Susan  should  seek  Delane  during  busi- 
ness hours,  apparently  having  some  message  to  give 
or  receive  from  him,  was  certainly  odd.  It  almost 
took  his  appetite  away.  He  felt  in  a  hurry  to  be 
back  to  see  what  was  going  on  between  his  partner 
and  his  sister's  friend.  Susan  was  perplexed  too 
at  running  into  Max ;  for  she  had  designed  to  avoid 
him  if  possible  by  going  to  his  office  at  the  time  he 
probably  would  be  out. 

Several  things  had  happened  at  the  house  since  he 
left  that  morning  which  made  her  visit  necessary. 
Mrs.  Potter,  quite  upset,  more  talkative  than  ever 
and  more  hopelessly  bewailing  her  task  with  the 
girls,  had  arrived  all  in  a  flutter  and  stated  her 
troubles  to  Susan,  closeted  with  that  lady  in  the 
third-story  room.  Gracie  had  disappeared;  had 
vanished  into  space,  as  Mrs.  Potter  expressed  it,  hav- 
ing left  the  Greenvale  flat  on  the  same  day  Florence 
was  taken  sick.  Mrs.  Potter  had  tried  to  get  Mrs. 
Wainwright  at  once  by  telephone;  but  when  she 
found  what  the  state  of  affairs  was  in  the  Kendall 
home,  she  had  delayed  making  known  her  troubles, 
hoping  that  Gracie  would  return  or  Mrs.  Wain- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  271 

wright  would  soon  be  able  to  see  her  and  advise  as 
to  what  she  should  do.  But  Florence  did  not  im- 
prove and  Gracie  stayed  away.  Then  it  was  that 
Mrs.  Potter  had  taken  the  matter  into  her  own 
hands  and  sought  Susan.  She  seemed  to  be 
thoroughly  annoyed  and  upset  that  things  had  hap- 
pened just  as  she  said  she  knew  they  would.  She 
had  been  certain  the  girls  would  break  loose  some 
time  or  other  and  asked  Miss  Anderton  if  that  had 
not  been  her  opinion  also. 

"Hardly,"  Susan  replied;  "I  had  sufficient  faith 
to  rent  the  flat.  Where  do  you  think  the  girl  is?" 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  Mrs.  Potter  said. 
"One  morning  Delane  called  her  up;  at  noon  she 
went  out  to  get  a  little  air,  telling  Tommy  that  she 
would  return  immediately.  She  has  not  been  seen 
or  heard  from  since.  It  is  really  too  dreadful,"  the 
poor  lady  wailed.  "Of  course,  we  can't  say  a 
word  to  Mrs.  Wainwright  until  she  is  better.  How 
is  the  dear  soul  getting  on?" 

"She  is  gaining,  although  far  from  well,"  Susan 
answered.  "But  she  must  know  nothing  of  this." 

The  connection  of  Delane  with  Gracie's  disap- 
perance  was  perfectly  apparent  to  Susan,  especially 
as  Max  had  told  her  the  night  before  that  his  partner 
had  not  been  in  the  office  for  several  days.  Flor- 
ence's disapproval  of  his  attentions  to  Gracie  and 
Tommy  also  came  to  mind.  Then  it  was  that  Susan 
decided  to  seek  him  out;  to  lay  her  cards  on  the 
table,  if  necessary,  and  see  what  his  next  play  would 
be. 


272  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

She  had  waited  in  the  private  office  about  half  an 
hour  before  he  put  in  an  appearance.  He  impressed 
Susan  very  much  as  he  had  Max  earlier  in  the  morn- 
ing. He  was  looking  extremely  bad;  and  Susan's 
usual  friendly  greeting  was  returned  in  a  cold  man- 
ner. Delane's  "And  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Miss 
Anderton?"  was  distinctly  in  contrast  to  his  former 
style. 

"I  have  come  to  do  something  for  you,"  Susan 
replied  in  her  most  cheerful  way.  "Here  is  your 
cardcase  which  you  may  have  missed."  And  she 
took  out  of  her  bag  the  little  black  leather  case 
which  she  had  found. 

Delane  looked  utterly  dismayed  when  he  saw  it 
and  rather  confused.  He  felt  in  his  various  pockets 
and  then  said,  "'No,  I  haven't  missed  it.  Where  did 
you  find  it?" 

"On  the  floor  at  Mrs.  Wainwright's." 

"Oh,  I  must  have  dropped  it  when  I  was  leaving 
the  other  night,"  he  went  on. 

"Certainly,"  Susan  said.  "It  was  over  by  the 
fireplace  near  the  sofa  in  the  living  room." 

Delane  looked  at  her  very  quickly  and  sharply; 
then  he  started  to  laugh  but  almost  immediately 
became  serious  again. 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  bringing  it  to  me," 
he  said.  "But  you  scarcely  need  to  have  put  your- 
self to  th^t  trouble.  I  could  have  got  it  when  I 
came  up  to  the  house." 

"But  it  is  hard  to  tell  when  that  will  be,"  Susan 
interrupted.  "Florence -is  very  ill,  you  know." 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  273 

If  a  bomb  had  been  exploded  in  the  room,  Delane 
could  not  have  looked  more  surprised  than  he  did 
at  this  announcement.  His  face  got  very  red;  he 
muttered  something  about  "being  so  sorry  to  hear 
it,"  and  then  became  silent. 

"Yes,"  Susan  went  on,  "Florence  caught  a  very- 
bad  cold  the  night  you  brought  her  up  to  town." 

"So  it  is  only  a  cold  then,"  Delane  said,  sur- 
prised and  relieved. 

"Not  entirely.  She  is  suffering  from  attacks  of 
hysteria  which  neither  the  doctor  nor  any  one  else 
can  explain." 

"Those  things  are  often  very  hard  to  account  for," 
Delane  put  in. 

"Yes,  very  baffling,"  Susan  replied;  "for  usually 
the  cause  is  hard  to  get  at.  Did  Florence  appear 
quite  all  right  the  night  you  saw  her?" 

"Yes ;  so  far  as  I  know.  She  was  very  tired,  of 
course.  The  ride  in  the  open  car  was  disagreeable; 
about  the  worst  storm  I  have  struck  in  a  long  time. 
It  was  rotten  luck  that  I  had'nt  come  down  to  the 
shore  in  my  limousine.  You  have  not  seen  my 
new  Pierce,  have  you?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  But  you  say  Mrs.  Wain- 
wright  seemed  all  right  when  you  got  her  home?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  was  all  right  beyond  being  pretty 
wet;  but  I  tried  to  cover  the  distance  as  fast  as 
possible.  We  even  stopped  for  dinner  on  the  road 
to  avoid  the  worst  part  of  the  storm.  But  it  was 
nasty  and  cold  all  the  way." 

"It  is  so  unusual  for  Florence  to  be  ill ;  especially 


274  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  way  she  is  now,"  Susan  said.     "We  can  make 
nothing  of  it." 

"I  am  terribly  sorry.  I  must  send  her  some 
flowers.  Has  she  any  preference?" 

"I  think  any  sort  of  flowers  are  cheering  when 
one  is  ill,"  Susan  replied,  showing  no  indication 
of  leaving. 

Delane  was  most  evidently  eager  that  she  should 
go.  He  got  up,  went  to  the  door,  looked  out  into  the 
hall,  and  theni  came  back  and  stood  near  Miss 
Anderton. 

"You  must  excuse  me  if  I  leave  you  now,"  he  said. 
"I  have  rather  pressing  matters  to  attend  to." 

"I  should  think  you  might,"  Susan  said,  laugh- 
ing; "when  you  are  able  to  disappear  into  the  coun- 
try for  three  or  four  days  at  a  time,  while  Max  is  in 
New  York." 

Delane,  who  had  started  across  the  room,  stopped 
short  and  looked  back  at  Susan.  He  did  not  like 
the  way  she  spoke  to  him;  the  sort  of  attitude  she 
was  taking  with  him  and  the  manner  which  sug- 
gested that  she  knew  about  certain  things  which  he 
wished  to  keep  dark.  Her  rather  sarcastic  remark 
about  going  to  the  country  was  the  last  straw. 

"I  am  sure  I  can  go  where  I  please  without  ask- 
ing your  leave,"  he  said  impatiently. 

"Look  here,  Jim  Delane,"  Susan  interrupted. 
"You  and  I  are  good  pals — at  least,  we  always  have 
been;  and  it  is  up  to  you  whether  we  continue  so. 
I  don't  care  how  often  you  go  to  the  country.  In 
fact,  I  invited  you  to  stay  with  me  at  the  shore ;  but 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  275 

I  would  like  to  ask  you  where  Gracie  Linton  is." 

"Grade  Linton?''  he  managed  to  say  at  last,  in  a 
surprised  tone.  "Oh,  you  mean  the  Gracie  out  at 
Greenvale — the  girl  in  the  flat." 

"Yes ;  the  girl  that  was  in  the  flat." 

"Why,  isn't  she  there  now?" 

If  the  tone  Delane  took  were  all  deception,  and 
he  was  fencing  to  gain  time,  then  Susan  thought  he 
did  it  pretty  well.  But  she  was  not  to  be  discour- 
aged by  his  assumed  surprise  and  innocence. 

"I  thought  that  perhaps  you  could  tell  me  where 
she  is,"  Susan  said  suddenly.  "You  can  behave  as 
you  please  with  girls  of  the  Gracie  sort,  or  any  other 
kind  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  did  not  come 
back  to  America  to  be  the  moral  guardian  of  young 
men.  The  lord  knows  there  are  enough  people 
doing  that  kind  of  thing.  But  I  will  not  have  you 
upsetting  my  friend's  pet  scheme  and  all  her  plans 
for  those  girls  by  kidnapping  one  of  them." 

Delane  began  to  laugh  and  sat  down  opposite 
Miss  Anderton. 

"You  have  great  imagination,"  he  said,  after  a 
moment. 

"Thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  Susan  replied. 
"But  in  some  cases  where  facts  are  at  hand,  imagi- 
nation is  not  required.  For  instance,  chairs  over- 
turned; disorder  everywhere;  your  cardcase  on 
the  floor,  and  sofa  pillows  thrown  about  are  rather 
too  evident  to  need  any  fancy  to  dress  them  up." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  De- 
lane  said  vehemently. 


276  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"You  will  know  before  I  get  through,"  Susan 
went  on.  "You  made  me  your  confidante  once. 
There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  be  honest 
with  me  now  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

Just  at  that  moment  Max  opened  the  door  and 
stepped  into  the  room.  He  had  heard  Susan's  last 
remark.  He  looked  utterly  dumfounded,  and  came 
up  quickly  between  Delane  and  Miss  Anderton. 

"You  two  people  appear  very  serious,"  he  said. 
"What  is  it  that  Jim  should  make  a  clean  breast  of  ?" 

"Miss  Anderton  has  let  her  imagination  run 
wild,"  Delane  said,  trying  to  laugh.  "Perhaps  if 
you  talk  with  her,  you  can  find  out  what  she  is 
driving  at.  It  is  beyond  me." 

"Come  into  my  office,"  Max  said  to  Susan,  as  he 
led  the  way  out. 

Closeted  with  him,  Susan  proceeded  to  tell  what 
had  happened  at  Greenvale.  How  Gracie  had  dis- 
appeared and  how  everything  connected  with  it 
pointed  to  Delane  having  a  hand  in  the  matter. 

"This  is  very  bad,"  Max  said.  "But  I  am  sure 
you  are  mistaken." 

"Of  course  I  have  no  proofs,"  Susan  replied.  "I 
suppose  you  know  that  Delane  has  been  out  to  see 
the  girls  a  great  deal.  That  he  helped  them  to  get 
settled  in  Greenvale,  and  ever  since  they  have  been 
there  he  has  often  taken  them  to  ride,  has  gone  to  the 
'movies'  with  them,  and,  showed  them  one  little 
attention  after  another.  It  troubled  Florence,  and 
she  spoke  to  me  about  it.  She  said  that  although 
she  was  glad  to  have  a  man  on  the  horizon  to  keep 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  277 

the  girls  contented,  she  was  sorry  Delane  was  the 
gentleman  in  the  trousers.  She  would  have  pre- 
ferred Rothwell.  Unfortunately  Hubert  has  been 
out  of  town;  but  I  think  he  would  not  find  much 
amusement  in  dancing  attendance  upon  the  Green- 
vale  menage." 

"I  was  wondering  where  he  was,  and  why  he  had 
not  appeared  on  the  scene  since  Florence's  illness," 
Max  put  in. 

"Yes ;  he  is  off  now  on  a  yachting  trip  with  some 
English  friends  of  his  who  have  been  staying  down 
near  me.  He  will  be  gone  several  weeks,"  Susan 
went  on  to  explain,  "and  I  am  sure  will  be  terribly 
sorry  when  he  gets  back  to  hear  what  has  happened. 
But  as  to  Greenvale.  Delane  has  been  far  too  in- 
timate with  the  girls.  A  few  days  ago — the  day 
after  the  scene  at  your  house — Gracie  disappeared 
and  has  not  been  heard  from  since.  That  same  day 
Delane  telephoned  her  early  in  the  morning  and, 
from  what  Mrs.  Potter  was  able  to  overhear,  evi- 
dently made  an  appointment  with  her.  He  van- 
ished at  the  same  time  and  has  not  been  seen  until 
to-day.  The  whole  thing  is  as  simple  as  an  arith- 
metical problem.  You  know  how  vague  he  was  to 
you  as  to  his  whereabouts  in  the  country.  Mrs. 
Potter  is  frightfully  disturbed;  and  of  course  we  can 
say  nothing  to  Florence.  I  have  taken  the  matter 
into  my  own  hands.  I  will  not  stand  by  and  see  the 
Greenvale  scheme  wrecked,  so  that  when  your  sister 
recovers  she  will  find  the  little  flat  broken  up  and 
her  girls  fallen  into  their  old  ways." 


278  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Max  looked  very  serious  and  was  silent  a  moment. 

"You  said  'the  scene  at  my  house.'  What  did 
you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"Oh,  I  meant  nothing  definite,"  Susan  replied. 
"I  know  nothing  definite;  but  considering  Delane's 
infatuation  for  Florence  and  the  appearance  of  the 
living  room  on  the  day  after  he  brought  her  up  to 
town,  I  have  been  led  to  suppose  that  there  was 
some  sort  of  a  scene  between  them." 

Max  jumped  up  quickly  and  began  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Jim  ever  told  Florence 
that  he  loved  her?" 

"Of  course.  Didn't  you  know  that  he  told  her 
last  summer  down  at  my  place  at  the  time  of  the 
picnic?" 

"Know!     How  should  I  know  ?" 

"I  supposed  Florence  had  told  you.  Delane  gave 
me  a  detailed  account  of  it.  In  fact,  I  surprised 
them  together  in  the  middle  of  a  scene  on  the  beach. 
Oh,  Delane  has  been  hard  hit  in  the  matter  of  Flor- 
ence." 

"I  always  felt  there  was  something  going  on  in 
his  mind  about  her.  But  this  is  ridiculous,  absurd !" 
Max  exclaimed.  "I  won't  have  him  making  love  to 
my  sister.  And  you  mean  that  you  think  some- 
thing of  the  same  sort  occurred  in  my  house  the 
other  night?" 

"I  am  very  sure  that  something  occurred,  but 
I  should  say  of  a  more  vehement  sort  than  anything 
before,"  Susan  retorted. 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  279 

"If  I  thought,"  Max  said  suddenly,  then  stopped 
short,  glaring  down  at  Susan.  "No,  I  won't  believe 
it,"  he  said  at  last. 

He  had  always  been  a  little  distrustful  of  Susan. 
He  had  never  liked  the  way  she  meddled  with  other 
people's  affairs.  Like  European  diplomacy,  Miss 
Anderton  was  rather  too  complicated  for  the  simple 
mind  of  Kendall.  Why  should  he  listen  to  her 
now?  Why  should  he  not  believe  that  she  was 
merely  hatching  up  some  plot  to  pull  Delane  and 
himself  apart?  Perhaps  she  had  quarrelled  with 
Delane  and  had  a  personal  motive  in  her  suspicions 
and  the  story  she  was  telling. 

"I  couldn't  help  but  believe  something,"  Susan 
continued,  when  she  saw  that  Max  remained  silent. 
Then  she  told  him  just  how  things  looked  the  morn- 
ing she  came  to  Marlborough  Street. 

"Let  me  talk  with  Jim,"  Max  said,  starting  out 
of  the  room.  "I  won't  have  such  things  happening, 
if  what  you  say  is  true." 

"Of  course  I  can't  accuse  him  of  anything," 
Susan  said  hurriedly.  "But  there  is  certainly 
something  very  queer  going  on.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  about  that ;  and  I  thought  you  ought  to  know, 
especially  in  reference  to  the  Greenvale  matter." 

Susan  was  alarmed  for  fear  she  had  said  too 
much.  She  often  had  got  herself  into  difficulties 
by  saying  more  than  she  intended;  but  the  present 
occasion  seemed  one  when  silence  was  not  the  best 
policy,  even  if  possible  at  all.  If  Delane  were  mis- 
behaving with  Gracie  and  had  offended  Florence  in 


28o  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

any  way,  it  was  better  that  Max  should  know  it 
now  than  later. 

"Let  me  talk  with  Jim,"  was  all  Max  said,  as  he 
went  out. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Delane  had  gone  into  the  large  office  which  the 
two  men  used  for  their  conferences  with  contrac- 
tors and  builders,  and  Max  found  him  there  after  he 
left  Susan.  He  was  not  sure  what  tone  he  should 
take.  If  what  Susan  said  were  true,  then  it  would 
be  necessary  that  he  should  come  quickly  to  some 
point  in  the  matter.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  believe 
Susan;  yet  allowing  for  her  exaggeration,  he  could 
see  that  certain  things  were  going  strangely  and  that 
Delane's  behavior  was  not  at  all  what  he  had  been 
accustomed  to.  In  short,  he  knew  there  was  some- 
thing which  he  must  find  out,  but  he  little  realized 
the  seriousness  of  the  situation. 

"What  has  that  woman  been  telling  you?"  Delane 
said,  as  Max  came  in. 

"Perhaps  you  can  guess,  or  know  already." 

"I  know  she  is  lying,  if  she  is  trying  to  discredit 
me  with  you." 

"Look  here,  old  man,"  Max  said,  sitting  down  at 
his  desk;  "we  can't  get  anywhere  if  you  are  going  to 
fly  off  in  a  temper  at  the  very  first  word  I  say." 

"No  one  is  flying  off  in  a  temper;  but  I  won't 
have  Susan  Anderton,  or  any  other  busybody,  com- 
ing down  here  and  filling  your  ears  with  a  lot  of 
rubbish." 


282  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"Just  answer  me  one  question,"  Max  interrupted 
quite  calmly. 

"Fire  away;  but  I  don't  just  see  why  I  should  be 
put  in  the  witness  stand  for  you." 

"Take  it  that  way  if  you  wish,"  Max  said,  as 
calmly  as  ever;  "it  will  make  it  easier  for  me  to  find 
out  what  I  want  to  know." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  to  find  out?" 

"Did  you  ever  tell  Florence  that  you  loved  her?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  did,"  Delane  replied  quickly. 
"It  was  down  at  the  shore  last  summer,  the  time 
Susan  was  giving  her  picnic.  Your  sister  seemed 
to  be  frightened  by  what  I  said  and  hurried  away 
from  me,  saying  that  you  should  never  know  any- 
thing about  it.  Of  course,  that  has  made  it  neces- 
sary for  me  to  keep  quiet  on  the  subject." 

"Did  you  ever  speak  to  her  again  on  the  matter?" 

"Yes — and  no,"  Delane  said,  rather  confused. 
"I  told  her  a  few  days  ago  that  I  felt  just  the  same, 
and  that  I  hoped  some  time  she  would  get  to  like  me 
better." 

"You  know  that  is  impossible." 

"I  don't  see  why." 

"Simply  because  she  doesn't  love  you  and  never 
could.  But  was  that  all  you  said?"  Max  went  on. 

"On  the  night  I  brought  her  up  to  town,  I  tried  to 
talk  to  her  a  little  about  it  when  we  were  having 
dinner." 

"Then  when  you  got  home,  I  suppose  you  went 
into  the  house?" 

"Yes ;  I  went  in,  for  Florence  asked  me  to  have  a 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  283 

bite  of  supper.  We  were  both  cold  and  wet  and 
rather  done  up  after  the  ride.  I  don't  know  when 
I  have  been  so  tired." 

"And  you  said  nothing  whatever  that  night  of 
your  love  for  her?" 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Delane  looked  down 
at  the  floor,  then  out  of  the  window.  Finally  he 
said  quite  slowly,  "No;  I  said  nothing;  there  was 
no  chance  to." 

"Is  that  the -truth?"  Max  asked,  looking  at  him 
very  seriously. 

"See  here,"  Delane  exclaimed,  jumping  up  from 
his  chair,  "what  right  have  you  got  to  cross-examine 
me  in  this  way?  If  I  love  your  sister,  haven't  I  a 
perfect  right  to?  Don't  you  think  I  am  as  good 
as  any  other  man  who  comes  along  and  throws  him- 
self at  her  feet?  She  wouldn't  have  minded  a  little 
bit  if  Roth  well  had  made  love  to  her.  I  suppose 
you  know  that  she  is  dead  gone  on  him.  And  how 
do  we  know  who  he  is, — some  damned  English  ad- 
venturer, I  suppose,  trying  to  pick  up  a  fortune  in 
America." 

It  was  Kendall's  turn  to  be  excited.  "I  won't 
have  you  talking  about  Florence  in  this  way  or  say- 
ing such  things  about  one  of  her  friends, — about  one 
of  my  friends.  But  you  have  just  the  same  as  ad- 
mitted that  you  thrust  yourself  upon  her,  that  you 
took  advantage  of  the  situation  of  being  alone  with 
her  there  at  night.  I  don't  know  what  you  said  to 
her,  I  don't  much  care ;  but  I  feel  pretty  sure  of  the 
sort  of  answer  she  made  you.  The  point  is  that  you 


284  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

had  her  at  a  disadvantage  and  took  that  occasion  to 
talk  about  your  love  for  her." 

"What  if  I  did?  Haven't  I  a  right  to  love  whom 
I  please;  and  haven't  I  a  right  to  talk  about  it  like 
any  other  man?  I  have  been  crazy  about  Mrs. 
Wainwright  ever  since  the  first  time  I  saw  her. 
Nora  could  tell  you  that  and  of  the  way  I  talked 
of  nothing  else  after  that  night  you  brought  me  to 
your  house  a  year  ago.  And  my  love  for  her  has 
been  growing  all  this  time.  Well,  then,  how  could 
you  expect  me  to  be  with  her,  so  near  her  all  that 
afternoon  and  evening  when  we  rode  up  to  town 
together,  without  saying  something?  Who  are  you 
to  tell  me  whom  I  am  to  love  and  how  I  shall  be- 
have?" 

"There  is  one  thing  I  can  tell  you  pretty  definitely, 
that  when  you  are  in  my  house,  you  have  got  to 
behave  like  a  gentleman;  and  if  you  don't,  you  must 
answer  to  me." 

"Who  says  I  didn't  behave  like  a  gentleman?" 
Delane  went  on  hurriedly,  losing  his  temper  more 
completely  with  every  word  he  uttered. 

"Susan  and  I  know  nothing  of  what  actually 
happened,"  Max  replied.  "But  Susan  saw  the  con- 
dition of  the  living  room  the  next  morning;  and  I 
have  seen  Florence  in  one  of  her  attacks  of  hysteria, 
and  I  have  been  told  by  the  nurse  how  she  cries  'Let 
me  go'  and  calls  out  your  name.  Does  all  this  have 
no  bearing  on  the  subject?  Do  you  take  me  for  a 
fool?" 

Delane  had  grown  rather  pale  at  Kendall's  last 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  285 

remark  and  stood  leaning  on  his  desk.     He  straight- 
ened up  suddenly. 

"I  tell  you  I  won't  have  you  meddling  with  my 
affairs,"  he  almost  shouted.  "I  was  good  enough 
for  you ;  my  money  was  very  convenient ;  my  money 
made  you.  And  now,  because  I  have  happened  to 
take  a  fancy  to  your  sister  and  tell  her  so,  as  any 
real  man  would  do,  you  turn  on  me  as  though  I 
were  some  low-down  rowdy." 

Max  saw  how  hopeless  the  scene  between  them 
was  becoming. 

"Please  be  reasonable,"  he  said,  still  holding  him- 
self in  hand.  "Let's  talk  this  thing  over  and  see 
just  where  we  stand." 

"I  don't  have  to  talk  my  affairs  over  with  you  to 
know  where  I  stand,"  Delane  retorted.  "And  I 
think  I  know  pretty  well  where  you  stand  if  my  help 
is  taken  away." 

The  threat  was  not  lost  upon  Kendall,  but  he 
made  no  answer.  It  was  merely  the  frothing  at 
the  mouth  of  a  man  who  was  very  angry. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  going  along  with  you  in  this 
Greenvale  business,  if  you  say  I  have  HO  right  to 
approach  your  sister  on  a  matter  which  is  nearer 
my  heart  than  anything  in  the  world?  I  have  al- 
ways loved  her, — I  adored  her.  I  did  everything  I 
could  to  make  her  see  it.  I  handled  her  with  kid 
gloves;  I  talked  fine  nonsense.  I  went  on  for 
months  before  I  ever  said  a  word  to  her,  before  I 
ever  let  her  know  that  she  was  different  to  me  from 
any  other  girl.  And  then,  when  I  had  a  good  chance 


286  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

last  summer,  I  spoke  to  her  and  told  her  just  how 
things  stood.  I  swear  to  you  that  there  was  nothing 
wrong  in  what  I  said  or  did ;  but  she  looked  at  me 
as  though  I  were  crazy,  as  if  I  were  some  barbarian 
who  was  going  to  run  off  with  her.  Then  we  were 
interrupted,  and  Florence  hurried  up  to  the  house. 
There  was  no  other  chance  for  a  long  time  to  say 
anything.  I  thought  of  coming  and  laying  the 
whole  matter  before  you ;  but  I  knew  that  would  do 
no  good.  Then  I  hoped  that  perhaps  Florence 
would  feel  differently  when  she  saw  that  my  devo- 
tion was  sincere.  Finally  events  threw  us  together 
in  a  very  close  and  intimate  way.  The  ride  to  town ; 
the  little  dinner  together,  and  the  dark  house — " 

"When  you  forgot  yourself,"  Max  interrupted. 

"Call  it  what  you  like,"  Delane  said  quickly.  "I 
tell  you  I  have  a  right  to  my  feelings.  If  you  don't 
think  me  good  enough  to  make  love  to  your  sister, 
then  you  are  not  good  enough  to  do  business  with 
me.  You  and  Florence  always  act  as  if  you  were 
not  quite  sure  of  me  when  we  meet  outside  of  our 
business  relations." 

"That  is  absurd,"  Max  put  in.  "You  know  I 
have  always  been  your  friend  and  stood  up  for  you 
on  every  occasion." 

"That's  all  very  well.  You  admired  my  brains 
and  liked  my  business  ability.  You  needed  some 
one  like  me  to  make  the  approach  to  the  shrewd 
men  we  have  to  deal  with.  You  enjoyed  seeing 
my  cleverness  used  to  turn  your  land  into  dollars; 
but  the  feeling  of  stand-offishness  was  there  all  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  287 

same.  I  saw  it  and  Nora  saw  it.  We  were  not 
your  kind.  It  was  all  right  to  use  us  and  to  have 
certain  connections  with  us ;  but  as  to  social  equality, 
— that  was  an  entirely  different  ma-tter.  Why  have 
you  never  entertained  Nora  and  me  at  your  house? 
Why  have  you  never  taken  us  about  with  you,  if 
I  was  the  pal  you  said  I  was?  It  was  because  we 
were  different;  were  not  of  your  set,  and  you 
couldn't  mix  up  your  fine  name  with  Irish  million- 
aires who  were  not  set  down  in  your  damned  Blue 
Book.  For  I  tell  you  that's  what  I  am,  a  million- 
aire; and  I  could  buy  out  your  interest  in  this 
Greenvale  scheme  so  quick  that  you  would  not  know 
you  had  turned  over  in  your  sleep.  I  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  love  your  sister,  and  I  had  the  courage 
to  show  it, — to  show  it  as  any  one  else  would  have 
done  with  red  blood  in  his  veins.  I  am  not  one  of 
you  swells  who  make  your  proposals  for  marriage 
like  an  invitation  to  dinner  and  then  enter  into 
childless  marriages." 

"I  won't  listen  to  you  when  you  speak  like  this," 
Max  cried.  "You  are  talking  a  lot  of  rubbish,  and 
you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying."  He  paused 
a  moment.  Then  asked,  "But  just  how  do  you  rec- 
oncile your  affair  with  Gracie  Linton  after  boast- 
ing of  all  this  devotion  to  Mrs.  Wainwright?" 

"Gracie  Linton !  Now  you're  on  that,  are  you  ?" 
Delane  exclaimed.  "How  much  longer*  are  you 
going  to  preach  morals  to  me  and  tell  me  what  I 
shall  do  and  shall  not  do  ?  It  is  about  time  I  turned 
the  spotlight  on  your  private  life." 


288  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

By  this  time  Delane  had  quite  lost  control  of  him- 
self. He  was  talking  like  an  insane  man. 

"So  Susan  has  been  filling  your  ears  with  the 
Gracie  business.  Well,  what  has  she  got  on  me 
there?  What  proofs  has  she  got  that  I  have  been 
doing  anything  to  the  Linton  girl  ?  Miss  Anderton 
makes  a  fine  detective  for  you,  doesn't  she?  She 
had  better  go  into  the  thing  and  not  waste  her  pre- 
cious time  on  me.  Of  course,  if  you  care  to  have 
people  in  Greenvale  like  those  two  girls  she  took  the 
flat  for,  all  right;  but  I  don't,  and  go  they  must. 
If  Gracie  has  flown  the  coop,  so  much  the  better. 
A  pretty  time  she  must  have  had  out  there  with 
that  old  cackling  hen  of  a  Mrs.  Potter  to  watch  and 
spy  on  her  every  movement.  Somebody  ought  to 
form  a  society  to  save  the  poor  from  the  social 
workers." 

"If  you  had  any  regard  for  Florence,"  Max  said, 
"you  would  not  talk  this  way;  and  if  you  consider 
her  wishes  at  all,  you  won't  disturb  the  girls." 

"What  regard  should  I  have  for  Florence  when 
she  has  turned  me  down,  and  when  you  go  after 
me  the  way  you  are  doing?  What  regard  should 
I  have  for  either  of  you,  if  you  can't  trust  me?" 

"That  is  just  it,"  Max  put  in.  "I  thought  I 
could  trust  you.  I  supposed  you  were  my  pal,  my 
friend;  but  I  see  you  in  your  true  colors  now.  I 
realize  that  what  Florence  said  was  true." 

"There  you  are,"  Delane  shouted.  "She  never 
liked  me.  She  was  always  telling  you  how  far 
beneath  you  I  was  and  filling  you  with  her  own  dis- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  289 

like  and  distrust  of  me.  I  wonder  we  have  got  on 
as  well  as  we  have  for  so  long.  But  I  am  through 
with  your  sister.  You  need  have  no  fear  of  me  on 
that  score.  As  for  Gracie  Linton, — that  is  none  of 
your  affair." 

"So  you  admit  it,"  Max  exclaimed. 

"I  admit  nothing,"  Delane  replied.  "You're  a 
fine  fellow,  aren't  you,"  he  went  on,  rather  more 
quietly,  "to  talk  all  this  business  of  love-making  to 
me,  when  you  have  nearly  reached  your  fortieth  year 
and  are  still  unmarried.  You  probably  have  never 
loved  or  had  a  girl  in  your  life." 

"We  won't  discuss  my  personal  affairs,"  Max 
said. 

"Then  we  had  better  put  the  soft  pedal  on  mine. 
Haven't  I  as  much  right  to  put  the  lid  on  my  affairs 
as  you  have  on  yours?  What  if  I  do  know  where 
Gracie  Linton  is;  what  if  I  have  had  a  hand  in  the 
matter;  that's  hardly  anything  for  you  to  get  hot 
under  the  collar  about." 

Max  could  not  stand  there  any  longer  and  hear 
this  kind  of  talk.  One  thing  was  very  evident;  that 
Delane  had  done  something  he  was  sorry  for  and 
was  trying  to  brave  the  thing  out  with  all  the  swag- 
ger he  could  command. 

"I  have  only  one  more  thing  to  say,"  Max  re- 
marked, as  he  started  to  go.  "And  that  is  that  you 
must  get  Gracie  back  to  Greenvale  at  once.  You 
know  where  she  is,  I  don't.  It  is  up  to  you  to  save 
the  situation.  Good-by." 

He  returned  to  Susan  and  told  her  briefly  the 


2QO  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

outcome  of  his  conversation.  She  agreed  with  Max 
that  Delane's  angry  outburst  and  the  harsh  things 
he  had  said  all  pointed  quite  clearly  to  a  guilty 
conscience.  They  walked  home  together,  trying  to 
find  some  way  out  of  the  tangle  and  worried  by  the 
effect  it  would  have  upon  Florence  when  she  should 
learn  of  what  had  happened  to  Gracie. 

Meanwhile,  Delane  had  hurried  off  in  his  large 
touring  car  to  a  little  hotel  in  the  country  about 
thirty  miles  from  Boston,  where  Gracie  awaited  him. 
She  was  a  very  different  looking  person  from  the 
young  lady  of  a  few  weeks  before.  A  rather  copi- 
ous supply  of  Delane's  money  had  fitted  her  out 
with  a  number  of  attractive  gowns;  her  hair  was 
done  with  great  care,  and  on  the  whole  she  presented 
a  very  much  manicured  appearance. 

Of  course,  Delane  said  nothing  about  his  con- 
versation with  Max  or  of  Florence's  illness ;  but 
Gracie  knew  by  his  manner  that  something  had  dis- 
turbed him.  He  was  irritable  and  unwilling  to  talk 
to  her;  and  would  not  listen  when  she  proposed  go- 
ing in  town  to  the  theatre.  During  the  evening  she 
worried  about  Tommy,  thinking  she  ought  to  let  her 
know  where  she  was,  send  some  word  to  her,  or  call 
her  up  by  telephone. 

"Go  ahead,"  Delane  said  rather  brutally.  "Get 
in  touch  with  Greenvale,  if  you  want  to;  but  you 
know  what  the  result  will  be.  The  Kendall  crowd 
will  be  down  on  us  in  full  force  if  they  find  out 
where  you  are.  Please  be  sensible,"  he  said,  after 
a  moment.  "Do  just  as  I  tell  you,  and  everything 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  291 

will  be  all  right.     Aren't  you  happy  out  here  with 
me?" 

"Of  course  I  am,"  Gracie  said,  coming  over  to 
him.  "Ain't  I  liked  you  ever  since  the  day  you 
broughit  Tommy  the  chocolates  at  the  hospital? 
You  know  Green  vale  was  fierce.  I  think  I  prefer 
Umber's  Restaurant  and  a  room  in  an  attic  to  Mrs. 
Potter  and  morality.  Why,  it  was  almost  as  bad 
as  it  used  to  be  at  home." 

Delane  laughed  at  this  and  drew  Gracie  to  him. 
The  fact  that  they  were  together  in  this  way  so 
soon  after  the  night  at  Florence's  house  and  what 
Delane  had  said  then  of  his  eternal  devotion  was 
really  not  so  strange  as  it  seemed.  He  had  taken  a 
great  fancy  to  Gracie  the  first  time  he  saw  her  at 
the  hospital  after  the  accident  to  Tommy.  He  had 
kept  in  close  touch  with  the  girls  during  their  life 
at  the  flat.  He  had  always  had  some  one  of  this 
sort  on  his  books;  that  is,  until  Florence  had  come 
into  his  life.  Then  for  a  long  time,  on  account 
of  what  he  thought  was  a  really  deep  love  for  her, 
he  behaved  himself  pretty  well,  so  far  as  women 
were  concerned.  He  had  all  those  fine  ideas  which 
people  of  his  type  indulge  in  when  it  seems  to  them 
that  a  lasting  love  has  transformed  the  world.  He 
lived  with  this  thought  constantly  in  his  mind;  he 
went  on  with  the  idea  that  some  day  he  would  win 
Florence.  Then  when  all  he  had  hoped  for  fell 
flat,  when  in  his  passion  he  saw  that  he  had  over- 
stepped the  bounds  of  what  a  person  may  do,  he 
dashed  off  in  a  rage  to  Gracie.  His  appearance  as 


292  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

something  very  definite  in  her  life  was  not  at  all 
unexpected;  for  he  had  once  asked  her,  on  one  of 
those  numerous  rides  together,  whether  she  did  not 
think  she  could  be  happy  with  him.  Of  course,  he 
did  not  mean  marriage;  but  Gracie  was  hardly  the 
person  who  needed  any  explanations  on  that  score. 
She  had  answered  rather  merrily,  "Set  the  time,  old 
boy,  and  I  will  do  the  rest."  This  conversation  had 
taken  place  soon  after  Susan  told  him  how  impos- 
sible it  would  ever  be  for  him  to  win  Florence.  It 
is  not  at  all  certain,  though,  that  he  would  not  have 
taken  the  same  attitude  toward  Gracie  if  his  suit 
with  Florence  had  been  more  promising.  There 
was  nothing  difficult  or  inconsistent,  to  his  mind,  in 
reconciling  the  two  matters.  Certain  people  have 
the  faculties  of  the  chameleon  in  the  matter  of  the 
affections.  As  things  turned  out,  when  he  found 
that  Florence  and  her  class  live  and  breathe  in  a 
different  atmosphere  from  his  own,  he  had  flown 
in  utter  desperation  to  the  arms  of  the  girl  who 
would  give  him  all  and  more  than  he  desired. 

Gracie  continued  to  worry  about  Tommy;  and 
the  next  morning,  after  Delane  had  gone  out,  she 
telephoned  to  the  Greenvale  flat.  She  was  able  to 
talk  with  Tommy  and  to  tell  her  somewhat  briefly 
where  she  was  and  with  whom  she  was  living.  She 
made  her  swear  that  she  would  say  nothing  of  all 
this  to  Mrs.  Potter.  Then  Tommy  told  her  friend 
of  Mrs.  Wainwright's  illness,  which  news  was  re- 
ceived quite  calmly;  whereupon  Tommy  reproved 
Gracie  for  the  way  she  had  run  off.  She  ended  the 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  293 

conversation  by  sending  her  regards  to  Jim,  which 
remark  Mrs.  Potter,  who  had  transformed  herself 
just  outside  the  door  into  a  living  statue  in  a  listen- 
ing attitude,  overheard. 

That  settled  the  correctness  of  her  suspicions. 
Delane  had  kidnapped  Gracie,  just  as  she  had  sup- 
posed. The  point  which  the  statue  had  not  been 
able  to  discover  was  where  were  they  and  what 
should  she  do?  A  visit. from  Miss  Anderton,  who 
came  out  to  the  flat  to  see  how  things  were  going, 
solved  the  situation  rather  quickly.  Susan  had  a 
very  convincing  way  with  people  when  she  wished 
to  find  out  something.  After  learning  from  Mrs. 
Potter  that  Gracie  was  somewhere  with  Delane, 
Susan  took  Tommy  in  hand;  and  in  the  course  of 
an  hour,  during  which  time  she  was  obliged  to  listen 
to  many  lies  and  to  beat  about  the  bush  in  her 
most  desperate  manner,  she  had  the  whole  story 
and  started  off  for  town.  An  interview  with  Max 
followed,  after  which  several  things  happened  which 
caused  him  to  make  up  his  mind  to  a  quite  definite 
line  of  action. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  first  of  these  things  was  the  appearance  in 
one  of  the  evening  newspapers  of  the  following 
headline : 

BACK  BAY  LADY'S  SCHEME  FAILS 
As  a  sub-heading  came  this : 

FALLEN  GIRLS  PROVE  POOR  PROPOSITION 

Below  was  a  half-column  account  of  Florence's 
Green  vale  venture,  telling  of  her  interest  in  social 
welfare  work  and  what  she  had  attempted  on  her 
own  account  with  two  girls  in  the  country.  Al- 
though no  names  were  mentioned,  the  tone  of  the  ar- 
ticle was  decidely  offensive. 

"One  of  these  girls,"  it  went  on  to  say,  "has  dis- 
appeared recently,  evidently  wishing  to  hit  the  high 
spots  after  a  period  of  country  quiet.  The  lady  her- 
self, who  stood  sponsor  for  these  unfortunate  girls, 
is  ill  and  confined  to  her  bed,  unable  to  stand  the 
strain  of  seeing  her  pet  scheme  in  social  welfare 
work  fall  to  pieces.  Residents  of  the  new  and 
promising  suburb  of  Green  vale  are  highly  indignant 
that  such  a  doubtful  venture  should  have  been  at- 
tempted in  their  midst.  People  with  families  of 
decent  lives  can  hardly  be  expected  to  put  up  with 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  295 

this  sort  of  thing.  However,  Mr.  James  Devlin 
Delane,  one  of  Boston's  leading  business  men  and 
organizer,  and  the  largest  stockholder  of  the  Green- 
vale  Holding  Company,  assures  the  residents  of 
Greenvale  that  the  flat  which  housed  these  girls  from 
the  slums  will  be  taken  over  by  him,  and  that  they 
need  have  no  further  fear  that  the  reputation  of 
this  beautiful  suburb  will  be  jeopardized  by  such 
wild  schemes  as  this  of  the  Back  Bay  lady,  belong- 
ing to  one  of  Boston's  oldest  families,  whose  faith 
in  sunshine  and  fresh  air  was  rather  greater  than 
her  knowledge  of  human  nature." 

All  that  day  Florence  had  shown  decided  improve- 
ment, had  begun  to  take  an  interest  in  things;  and 
to-night  was  the  first  time  since  she  was  taken  sick 
that  she  had  asked  for  the  newspaper.  Of  course 
the  headline  about  the  Back  Bay  lady  struck  her 
eye  at  once.  She  read  farther,  scarcely  believing 
that  what  she  saw  was  true.  She  almost  felt  that 
her  mind  must  have  become  affected,  and  that  she 
was  imagining  things.  But  there  was  the  cold 
print  \vith  all  the  brutality  of  abbreviated  state- 
ment in  which  newspapers  of  a  certain  type  are  so 
pleased  to  indulge.  When  the  nurse  came  into  the 
room,  she  found  Mrs.  Wainwright  pale  and  trem- 
bling. She  asked  to  see  Max  at  once. 

"It's  Delane,  Delane,  at  the  bottom  of  this,"  she 
cried,  as  her  brother  stood  by  her  bedside.  She 
handed  him  the  paper.  "What  a  beast,"  she  went 
on.  "Can't  he  let  me  alone?  Hasn't  he  done 
enough  already?  Wasn't  it  enough  for  him  to 


296  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

have  me  at  his  mercy  the  other  night  without  bring- 
ing this  new  shame  upon  me  ?" 

Then  she  lost  control  of  herself.  She  threw  her- 
self upon  Max's  sympathy,  the  only  thing  she  had 
to  uphold  her  now ;  and  in  his  arms  made  a  complete 
confession  of  all  that  had  happened.  The  vow  she 
made  that  terrible  night  that  Max  should  never 
know,  that  no  one  must  ever  know,  went  for  nothing 
in  this  moment  of  weakness  and  disappointment. 
The  nurse  had  been  sent  out  of  the  room,  and  Flor- 
ence told  her  brother  everything,  without  trying  to 
cover  up  any  of  the  details  of  the  scene  in  the  dark- 
ened house.  Max  was  so  angry,  felt  suddenly  such 
a  bitter  hatred  toward  Delane,  that  he  could  scarcely 
hold  himself  in  hand  until  he  should  get  at  the  man 
who  had  so  insulted  his  sister1  and  was  now,  by 
this  venomous  newspaper  report,  dragging  her  name 
through  the  dirt.  For  of  course  people  would  know 
or  find  out  very  soon  who  the  "Back  Bay  lady"  was. 
Florence  had  had  evidence  at  the  committee  meet- 
ing of  the  way  in  which  her  venture  was  being  dis- 
cussed. It  would  not  take  long  for  persons  outside 
the  circle  of  social  service  work  to  pick  up  the 
threads  of  her  connection  with  the  Green  vale  busi- 
ness, especially  as  her  brother  was  associated  with 
Delane.  But  to  Max,  all  this  was  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  that  unforgivable  scene  when  Delane  had 
played  the  brute  with  Florence. 

This,  coming  immediately  after  Susan's  report  on 
the  Greenvale  situation,  caused  Max  to  decide  that 
he  and  Delane  must  separate — that  it  would  be  intol- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  297 

erable  to  continue  in  business  with  such  a  man  as  a 
partner.  The  difficulty,  which  he  could  see  quite 
clearly  but  which  had  no  effect  upon  his  decision, 
was  that  Delane  held  the  upper  hand,  was  in  control 
of  the  finances  in  Greenvale  operations.  Max's 
withdrawal  from  the  scheme  might  mean  his  ruin. 
This  was  as  plain  as  daylight  to  him. 

When  he  had  become  associated  with  Delane,  the 
hundreds  of  acres  of  land  which  he  owned  were 
encumbered  with  mortgages  up  to  the  last  dollar 
of  their  value.  Delane,  in  order  to  make  sure  of 
his  security  in  going  ahead  with  the  venture,  had 
paid  off  these  mortgages  and  taken  over  the  title  to 
the  land.  Max  was  to  share  with  him  in  the  profits 
which  would  come  with  the  development  of  the 
place.  Of  course,  if  he  withdrew  now,  Delane 
would  buy  out  his  interest;  but  this  interest  would 
be  a  small  part  of  what  might  be  his  should  he  con- 
tinue with  the  Greenvale  business.  It  was  now  at 
the  beginning  of  its  prosperity.  In  ten  years  Max 
would  probably  be  a  rich  man.  So  his  withdrawal 
at  this  time,  while  it  did  not  mean  total  financial 
ruin,  certainly  did  mean  the  blasting  of  his  hopes  of 
success  in  the  future,  not  only  in  relation  to  Green- 
vale  but  from  other  ventures  of  a  like  nature  which 
he  and  Delane  had  proposed  making  together. 
Withdrawal,  however,  at  any  odds,  was  the  only 
course  open  to  Max.  He  would  feel  that  he  had 
lost  his  very  soul  if  he  should  remain  associated  with 
such  a  man  as  his  partner  had  proved  himself  to  be. 
With  such  a  moral  background  what  could  Max 


298  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ever  expect  in  the  way  of  business  honor  or  integ- 
rity? Looking  back  on  all  their  dealings  together, 
he  could  scarcely  see  how  it  had  been  possible  for 
him  to  go  heart  and  soul  into  the  venture  with 
Delane.  Now  that  he  had  shown  himself  clearly. 
Max  could  never  see  him  in  any  other  light.  Per- 
haps the  old  Kendall  pride  rose  up  within  him. 
Certainly  anger  and  pride  were  combined  in  what 
he  felt  now  after  hearing  his  sister's  story  and  after 
knowing  the  relationship  which  existed  between 
Delane  and  Gracie.  It  was  his  sense  of  honor, 
which  according  to  his  standards  was  the  very  basis 
of  life,  which  rebelled.  How  necessary  it  often 
was,  he  thought,  in  order  to  succeed  in  these  days, 
to  trample  honor  under  foot  and  not  be  over-scru- 
pulous about  one's  soul. 

He  said  nothing  to  Florence  of  what  was  in  his 
mind.  He  quieted  her  as  best  he  could,  told  her  he 
would  find  Gracie  and  get  her  back  to  Greenvale,  and 
that  he  would  do  nothing  rash  in  his  treatment  of 
Delane.  All  of  which  was  more  easily  promised 
than  carried  out.  He  had  few  hopes  of  being  able 
to  accomplish  anything  with  the  Linton  girl.  He 
had  never  been  very  optimistic  as  to  what  could  be 
done  with  people  of  that  sort.  The  results  had 
shown  that  he  was  right.  But  he  did  interview  the 
newspaper  which  had  published  the  scurrilous  article ; 
and  threatened  action  of  some  sort  if  another  word 
were  said  in  its  sheets  of  the  home  for  fallen  girls. 
The  editor  quite  frankly  told  him  that  his  source 
of  information  had  been  through  a  reporter  who 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  299 

had  picked  up  the  story  and  wished  to  make  of  it 
as  startling  a  bit  of  news  as  possible.  This  reporter 
Max  knew  to  be  an  acquaintance  of  Delane.  In 
fact,  he  was  one  of  Miss  Nora's  young  friends;  and 
the  venom  of  the  article  could  be  traced  to  the 
balked  social  aspirations  of  that  young  woman. 

To  announce  to  Delane  that  he  was  through  with 
him,  that  he  was  stepping  out  of  Greenvale  matters 
and  would  accept  any  terms  of  withdrawal  which 
could  be  arranged,  was  the  hardest  part  of  his  de- 
cision to  perform.  After  working  constantly  and 
at  close  quarters  with  Delane  for  a  year  and  a  half, 
it  was  no  easy  thing  to  adjust  oneself  to  the  new  at- 
titude. Max  could  never  again  have  anything  but 
the  most  intense  dislike  and  disgust  for  his  former 
associate;  but  he  would  be  obliged  to  see  him,  to 
announce  his  intention,  and  then  through  his  lawyers 
come  to  some  understanding  on  the  financial  ques- 
tions involved.  This  was  all  going  to  be  confound- 
edly unpleasant,  as  Max  admitted  to  himself.  He 
was  at  a  loss  even  how  and  where  to  begin.  For 
the  present  he  stayed  away  from  his  office,  claiming 
Florence's  illness  as  his  excuse. 

Delane  made  frantic  attempts  to  get  him  by  tele- 
phone. Then  he  sent  him  telegrams,  requesting  his 
advice  on  some  business  matter;  and  finally,  after 
getting  no  satisfaction  from  these  messages,  wrote 
a  letter  in  which  he  rather  lamely  apologized  for 
having  lost  his  temper  the  other  day  and  hoping 
that  Mrs.  Wainwright  Was  recovered  from  her 
recent  illness. 


300  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

"What  do  you  make  of  the  man?"  Max  said  to 
Susan.  "He  seems  to  feel  that  we  can  go  on  just 
the  same  after  what  has  happened  and  apparently 
has  no  idea  that  I  will  not  forget  his  behavior." 

"He  is  hard — hard  like  so  many  of  the  men 
to-day,"  Susan  replied.  "I  tell  you  these  great 
business  ventures  undertaken  by  our  young  men,  in 
which  the  motto  is  'the  devil  take  the  hindmost/  are 
killing  their  finer  feelings.  America  to-day  fairly 
glitters  with  her  quickly  made  millions,  and  the  ex- 
pression behind  that  glitter  of  gold  is  a  cold,  soulless 
stare.  You  have  only  to  walk  down  the  streets  in 
New  York  to  see  what  I  mean." 

"I  know,"  Max  sighed.  After  a  time  he  said, 
"Perhaps  I  was  never  made  for  the  game ;  perhaps  it 
is  just  as  well  for  me  to  get  out  now  before  I  am 
bowled  over  by  one  of  the  high-handed  schemes 
of  such  men  as  Delane." 

"There  are  two  worlds  here,"  Susan  went  on. 
"The  old  order  of  people  like  you  and  Florence, 
who  flatter  yourselves  by  thinking  you  are  modern ; 
and  the  new  world  of  the  Delanes.  Can  they  mix ; 
can  they  work  together?  That  is  the  question. 
You  thought  you  had  solved  it  by  allying  yourself 
with  Delane  and  his  great  money-making  scheme. 
You  have  not  been  beaten,  but  you  have  seen  that 
you  do  not  belong  there.  You  had  high  hopes. 
They  have  not  failed;  you  only  misplaced  them. 
You  will  have  enough  to  live  on.  You  need  not 
worry  on  that  score.  Florence  can  easily  pick  up 
again  the  threads  of  her  work  and  forget  there  ever 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  301 

were  two  worthless  girls  before  whom  she  placed 
high  ideals.     It  will  all  come  right  in  the  end." 

Susan  spoke  hopefully;  but  Max  was  troubled. 
He  dreaded  the  business  of  his  withdrawal  from  the 
Greenvale  Company.  He  knew  the  difficulties 
Delane  would  throw  in  his  way  as  to  the  details  of 
the  thing.  He  was  dubious  about  Florence's  state 
of  mind  when  she  should  know  that  he  had  broken 
with  Delane,  feeling,  as  she  was  bound  to,  that  she 
had  been  the  cause  of  it  all.  Happily  Florence 
continued  to  improve  every  day.  After  the  first 
shock  of  knowing  that  her  attempts  for  Gracie  had 
gone  for  nothing  and  that  the  little  household  in 
Greenvale  must  be  given  up,  she  gained  strength  and 
seemed  more  like  herself.  The  fact  that  Max 
shared  her  knowledge  of  Delane's  conduct  toward 
her  was  probably  the  saving  of  the  situation.  With 
him  she  could  face  anything.  The  nerve  specialist 
who  had  been  called  in  to  examine  her  had  said  at 
the  outset  that  something  was  haunting  and  trou- 
bling her;  that  just  as  soon  as  she  could  be  made  to 
confess  or  confide  in  some  one  what  it  was,  all 
would  be  well.  The  fatal  headlines  in  the  news- 
paper had  brought  this  about. 

Then  Rothwell  returned  to  town  from  his  yacht- 
ing trip;  and  perhaps  his  appearance  did  more  for 
Florence  in  the  way  of  a  cure  than  anything  which 
had  happened.  Rothwell,  on  his  part,  was  aware  of 
a  certain  charm  and  beauty  of  appeal  which  she  held 
for  him  quite  different  from  anything  he  had  felt 
before.  Not  that  he  had  ever  failed  to  see  her 


302  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

charm;  but  now  her  personality  touched  him  more 
closely.  One  afternoon  they  sat  chatting  together, 
Florence  propped  up  in  a  big  chair  in  the  sun  and 
Rothwell  facing  her  as  she  sat  framed  in  the  bay 
window  through  which  the  long  straight  street 
ran  out  into  the  golden  dusty  vista  of  the  late  after- 
noon. She  seemed  so  helpless,  so  ready  for  the 
least  bit  of  encouragement  and  sympathy,  as  she 
told  him  the  story  of  Gracie's  disappearance  and 
what  a  beast  Delane  had  been.  Naturally  she  made 
no  allusion  to  the  particular  scene  which  would 
ever  remain  a  secret  between  herself  and  Max. 

"You  see,  I  often  wondered,  when  Delane  was 
seeing  so  much  of  the  girls,  if  he  were  the  right 
sort  of  man,"  she  said.  "I  tried  to  get  help  from 
you ;  but  you  were  vague." 

"But  I  told  you  what  the  events  have  proved  to 
be  the  truth,"  Hubert  replied. 

"You  said  he  was  an  'outsider.' ' 

"Yes;  one  never  knows  what  such  a  person  will 
do.  Therefore,  it  is  best  not  to  take  them  too 
seriously." 

"It  is  rather  like  me  to  take  people  seriously. 
Perhaps  that  is  why  I  am  so  often  disillusioned." 

She  went  on  to  tell  him  how  Susan  was  going 
to  Greenvale  to  close  up  the  flat  which  she  had 
rented  for  the  girls  and  would  bring  Mrs.  Potter 
into  town  to  be  her  housekeeper.  Tommy,  it  seems, 
had  joined  Gracie  somewhere;  and  neither  of  them 
had  sent  any  word  to  Mrs.  Wainwright. 

"There's  gratitude  for  you,"  Hubert  exclaimed. 


\ 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  303 

But  Florence  did  not  care  to  talk  longer  of  the 
girls  or  of  Greenvale.  She  said  all  that  was  over, 
so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  and  that  whatever  she 
did  now  in  connection  with  her  welfare  work  would 
be  along  the  approved  lines  of  the  committee  and 
special  reports. 

"The  world  is  still  in  its  swaddling  clothes  of 
red  tape,"  she  went  on.  "It  is  tiresome  to  have  it 
so;  but  individual  effort  is  a  difficult  matter,  and 
the  person  you  try  to  help  is  too  often  a  poor  prop- 
osition. However,  I  shall  always  feel  certain  that 
Gracie  would  not  have  run  away  if  I  had  been  on 
deck  at  the  critical  moment.  We  won't  talk  of  it, 
though,"  she  added.  "It  is  a  closed  book." 

No  further  mention  of  Delane  was  made.  When 
Rothwell  left  he  promised  to  call  the  next  day  to 
find  out  how  the  invalid  was  getting  on.  Susan  had 
told  him  that  something  quite  apart  from  the  Gracie 
episode  had  happened  between  Florence  and  Delane ; 
but  with  her  meager  knowledge  of  the  affair  she 
could  say  nothing  definite.  He  could  see,  however, 
by  the  way  Florence  had  spoken  of  Delane,  that  she 
held  some  more  bitter  hatred  toward  him  than  the 
rather  sensational  escapade  of  the  Linton  girl  could 
have  caused  by  itself.  So  he  was  not  very  sur- 
prised when  the  news  came  a  few  days  later  that 
Kendall  had  broken  with  his  partner  and  had 
stepped  out  of  Greenvale  affairs. 

Max  had  come  in  one  afternoon,  and  finding  Flor- 
ence downstairs  for  the  first  time  since  her  illness, 
had  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  drawn  her  into  his 


304  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

study.  There  he  told  her  that  he  was  through  with 
Greenvale,  that  he  had  sold  out  his  interest,  and  that 
his  slate  was  clean  so  far  as  land  ventures  went. 
In  short,  he  was  out  of  the  business ;  it  was  no  more 
for  him.  Florence  could  not  speak  for  a  moment. 
She  felt  that  she  must  weep,  perhaps  at  the  happi- 
ness of  knowing  her  brother  was  no  longer  to  be 
associated  with  Delane ;  but  more  especially  in  think- 
ing that  it  was  because  of  her  that  Max's  brilliant 
business  career  had  gone  smash. 

"And  all  because  of  me,  all  because  of  your  sis- 
ter," she  murmured. 

Max  held  her  closer.  He  told  her  how  his  law- 
yers had  carried  out  the  business  with  Delane  for 
him.  How  he  had  been  obliged  to  see  him  only 
twice  during  the  transactions,  and  how  Delane  had 
settled  with  him  for  a  very  tidy  sum  which  repre- 
sented all  of  his  claims  in  Greenvale  at  the  present 
stage  of  its  development. 

Florence  heard  all  this  without  comment.  Finally 
she  said,  "It  would  have  been  different,  wouldn't  it, 
if  I  had  given  myself  to  him?  If  I  only  could 
have—" 

But  Max  stopped  her  words  with  a  resounding 
kiss.  That  was  the  last  thing,  he  said,  which  she 
must  ever  think  of,  that  she  must  ever  suggest  to 
herself.  Better  to  have  stepped  out  penniless  into 
the  world  than  have  her  hold  such  thoughts. 

The  matter  of  breaking  with  Delane  had  been 
somewhat  easier  than  Max  had  anticipated;  for 
Delane  had  a  friend,  an  Irishman  older  than  himself, 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  305 

who  had  been  for  several  years  an  important  factor 
in  the  politics  of  the  city,  and  who  wished  to  come 
into  the  company.  In  fact,  with  this  man  Delane 
would  be  able  to  proceed  in  his  schemes  with  a  cer- 
tain recklessness  which  never  had  been  possible  as 
long  as  the  conservative  Kendall  upheld  the  other 
end  of  the  partnership.  Besides,  what  wouldn't  he 
do  with  politics  behind  him  and  with  a  brilliant  mem- 
ber of  the  political  crew  then  in  power  as  his  associ- 
ate in  the  Greenvale  Holding  Company.  Somewhat 
more  dazzling  vistas  than  ever  before  opened  up  to 
the  keen  eye  of  Delane,  and  he  dropped  Max  with 
hard/y  a  regret.  Max  had  made  him  through  his 
land,  and  he  had  tried  to  make  Max  through  his 
clever  manipulation  of  that  land ;  but  they  were  never 
meant  for  each  other,  he  told  Kendall's  lawyers,  and 
he  could  navigate  his  ship  quite  well  without  him. 
All  of  which  was  exactly  to  Kendall's  purpose.  It 
eliminated  the  possibility  of  law  suits  to  recover  his 
interests,  and  recriminations,  and  no  one  could  say 
what  intricacies  of  slander  and  mischief-making. 

Something  like  a  storm  had  swept  over  the  affairs 
of  Kendall  and  his  sister.  They  had  been  secure  all 
their  lives;  and  in  his  recent  business  success  Max 
had  felt  he  had  caught  the  step  of  the  men  of  his 
generation  who  were  doing  the  big  things  in  the 
world  of  finance.  But  now  they  were  adrift,  as 
perhaps  so  many  of  the  older  order  are  adrift  in 
the  tidal  wave  of  modern  life.  What  shore  would 
they  make  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

If  there  is  one  institution  more  essentially  Bos- 
tonian  than  another,  one  habit  more  firmly  fixed 
upon  the  people  than  all  the  other  habits  and  ways 
of  doing  things  for  which  the  city  is  justly  famous, 
it  is  the  "Pops."  To  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters 
it  may  be  said  that  the  "Pops"  are  a  series  of  con- 
certs given  during  the  early  summer  months  by  the 
symphony  orchestra  in  the  hall  where  through  the 
winter  season  this  same  group  of  musicians  holds 
sway  before  Boston's  music  lovers.  But  the  audi- 
ence of  the  popular  concerts  in  the  summer  is  rather 
more  heterogeneous. 

At  one  of  the  tables  near  the  stage  on  a  certain 
evening  of  the  spring  following  the  autumn  of  inci- 
dents which  have  just  been  narrated,  there  might 
have  been  discovered  a  group  of  rather  smartly 
dressed  people — two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen. 
Laughing  and  talking  and  paying  only  a  slightly 
bored  attention  to  the  music,  this  little  party  com- 
prised! Mrs.  Wainwright,  her  brother  Max,  and 
their  friends,  Susan  Anderton  and  Hubert  Roth- 
well.  Susan  Anderton  was  the  hostess  of  this 
group,  and  she  was  giving  a  party  for  her  three 
friends,  who  were  sailing  soon  for  England. 

"It  is  tragic  that  you  are  not  coming  with  us," 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  307 

Florence  was  saying  in  one  of  the  intermissions, 
when  the  waitresses  hasten  to  make  change  and 
collect  tips  for  the  refreshments  served  during  the 
evening,  and  the  more  suburban  parts  of  the  audi- 
ence stare  about  to  discover  points  of  interest  in 
their  neighbors.  The  galleries,  packed  to  the  last 
seat,  lean  forward  in  long  lines  to  look  down 
through  the  smoke  at  the  crowd  on  the  floor;  but 
the  row  of  gray  gods  above,  standing  in  their  niches, 
avert  their  gaze,  knowing  that  what  they  see  holds 
none  of  the  old  joyousness  of  life  which  was  upon 
the  world  before  their  doom  had  overtaken  them 
to  stand  endlessly  in  museums  or  ornament  the 
upper  portions  of  halls  of  entertainment. 

"It  makes  me  quite  homesick  and  ready  to  forget 
my  uncle's  millions,"  Susan  said,  in  reply  to  her 
friend,  "when  I  think  of  you  starting  off  without 
me.  But  I  shall  follow  later,  just  as  soon  as  my 
wretched  attorneys  in  New  York  think  my  rights 
are  secured." 

"It  is  hardly  worth  while  coming  into  a  legacy 
if  it  takes  a  lifetime  to  get  it,"  Max  put  in. 

After  a  winter  of  indecision  on  the  part  of  Max 
and  a  rather  long  convalescence  for  Florence,  it  had 
been  decided  that  they  would  go  abroad ;  they  would 
stay  for  a  time  in  England,  visiting  some  friends 
and  possibly  accepting  Rothwell's  invitation  to  come 
to  his  place  in  the  country.  Then  they  were  to 
proceed,  after  the  customary  look-in  on  Paris,  to 
Italy,  where  a  friend  of  Kendall's  boyhood  lived 
at  Santa  Margherita.  London  and  Paris  interested 


3o8  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

Max  very  little ;  but  Italy,  where  he  had  spent  many 
happy  months  when  making  the  "grand  tour"  with 
his  father,  held  out  a  certain  prospect,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  which  he  had  been  persuaded  by  Florence  to 
undertake  the  European  trip.  Rothwell,  who  knew 
that  he  had  far  outstayed  his  time  in  America,  was 
going  to  sail  with  them. 

Of  course  Susan  went  over  to  New  York  to  see 
them  off,  the  next  best  thing,  she  said,  to  going  her- 
self. There  was  the  usual  crowd  of  friends  to 
wave  good-by  to  the  first  big  boatload  of  people 
to  sail  that  spring  for  Europe.  The  Anglo-Ameri- 
cans who  made  their  annual  pilgrimage  to  England ; 
the  European  enthusiasts  who  found  everything 
genial  in  life  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic;  the 
rather  newly  prosperous  couples  taking  their  first 
step  from  their  native  shore  who  would  tell  you  on 
the  steamer  that  you  must  see  "God's  country  first" 
but  who  apparently  preferred  travel  in  wet  foreign 
lands  to  journeys  in  search  of  scenery  in  their  own 
dry  domain, — all  were  there  on  the  pier  and  hasten- 
ing on  board  the  big  boat. 

"Don't  forget  to  send  me  a  cable  wben  you 
arrive,"  Susan  called  out,  as  the  order  for  going 
ashore  passed  along  the  decks  and  she  was  saying 
good-by  to  her  friends.  The  farewell  passage  with 
Hubert  was  far  more  casual  than  she  had  expected  ; 
and  she  wondered  if  he  had  really  transferred  his 
affections  from  her  to  her  friend. 

It  would  not  be  at  all  surprising  to  Susan  if  this 
had  happened.  Certainly  she  had  done  her  best  to- 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  309 

ward  that  end,  however  slight  had  been  any  evidence 
which  she  could  see  as  a  result  of  her  efforts.  From 
the  time  Hubert  had  returned  to  Boston  and  found 
the  Kendalls  in  the  midst  of  the  Delane  catastrophe 
— Florence  ill  and  Max  bowled  over  by  the  sudden 
break  in  his  business  career — he  had  taken  a  new 
and  decidedly  lively  interest  in  Mrs.  Wainwright. 
All  through  the  winter,  when  she  had  led  the  idle, 
carefree  life  of  a  semi-invalid,  Hubert  had  been 
devoted  in  his  attentions  to  her.  She  had  never 
seemed  so  attractive,  so  much  en  rapport  with  him. 
Perhaps  Florence's  former  constant  labors,  her 
rather  definite  attitude  toward  people  and  the  small 
amount  of  time  she  could  give  to  the  essentially 
feminine  things  of  life,  had  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  see  her  in  her  most  likeable  mood.  At  any 
rate,  from  his  casual  interest  there  had  developed 
a  real  sympathy  with  her ;  and  he  had  been  much  at 
the  Kendalls'  and  had  sat  and  talked  with  Florence 
for  hours  at  a  time,  when  she  was  still  unable  to 
go  about.  With  the  coming  of  spring,  they  had 
played  golf  together,  had  motored  out  into  the  coun- 
try in  a  little  car  which  Rothwell  bought  and  was 
to  pass  over  to  Susan  upon  his  departure  from 
America.  A  real  regard  and  fondness  for  Florence 
had  come  about,  which  perhaps  was  the  next  thing  to 
love.  But  Rothwell  had  never  said  anything.  He 
was  not  the  sort  to  say  anything  until  he  was  very 
sure  of  his  own  feelings,  and  perhaps  he  was  slower 
in  finding  out  what  his  sentiments  were  than  are 
most  people.  Susan  had  looked  on  at  all  this  with 


3io  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ever-increasing  pleasure;  not  wholly  because  that 
seemed  to  be  happening  which  she  had  so  long 
hoped  for,  but  because  she  could  feel  Florence's 
happiness  through  it  all  and  watch  her  growing 
love  for  Hubert. 

While  the  boat  was  steaming  far  out  of  sight 
of  land  that  soft  spring  afternoon,  a  girl  strolled 
into  Umber's  Cafe  just  at  the  dull  time  of  day 
which  at  places  of  this  sort  has  in  the  springtime 
more  of  sadness  and  gloom  than  at  any  other  time 
of  the  year.  It  was  still  light  outside  but  inside 
the  restaurant  it  was  all  shadow  and  murkiness. 
She  was  dressed  rather  more  smartly  than  most  of 
the  women  who  came  to  Umber's ;  but  her  suit  and 
hat  looked  slightly  shabby,  and  Gracie  Linton,  the 
girl  who  wore  them,  looked  tired  and  ill.  Her  en- 
trance caused  a  mild  sensation  among  the  waitresses. 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  Gracie!"  one  of  them  ex- 
claimed. 

"I  guess  the  swell  guy  who  put  up  for  her  has 
gone  broke,"  another  remarked,  as  she  advanced 
slowly  to  the  table  where  Gracie  had  sat  down. 

There  was  no  effusive  welcome  at  seeing  her  back 
in  the  well-known  restaurant,  but  rather  an  attitude 
of  disdain  that  she  should  have  had  the  audacity  to 
step  out  of  her  old  haunts  and  then  expect  to  be 
received  again  on  her  former  footing.  She  had  al- 
most lost  caste  at  Umber's.  Of  course,  certain 
habitues  of  the  place  had  known  of  her  doings  the 
past  year,  had  heard  vaguely  of  her  as  being  some- 
where in  the  country  and  been  told  of  her  life  with 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  311 

Delane.  The  only  curiosity  shown  now  was  as 
to  what  had  happened  to  her  rich  "gentleman 
friend."  Gracie  told  her  story  quite  briefly,  but 
with  the  addition  of  several  oaths  as  to  the  charac- 
ter of  said  gentleman  friend  who,  it  seems,  had  tired 
of  her  and  thrown  her  over.  It  was  like  many 
other  events  narrated  at  the  varnished  tables  of 
Umber'^. 

"But  where  is  Tommy?"  the  head  waiter  of  the 
pale  face  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  Gracie  replied.  "I  guess  she 
feels  too  good  for  me.  The  last  time  I  heard  from 
her  was  a  letter  I  got  in  which  she  said  she  had  gone 
to  work  in  a  factory  in  a  small  town.  That  after 
knowing  Mrs.  Wainwright  she  was  through  with  the 
old  stuff."  Gracie  paused  to  take  a  sip  of  pale 
half-per-cent  beer.  "I  bet  you  before  she  has  been 
there  long  she  will  find  there  is  plenty  of  sporty 
life  in  the  small  town." 

Several  exclamations  of  surprise  and  disgust  were 
uttered  by  the  little  group  of  waitresses  who  stood 
looking  down  at  Gracie.  Then  they  moved  away 
to  attend  to  the  various  patrons  who  were  strag- 
gling in  and  taking  their  accustomed  places  amid  the 
smell  of  stale  smoke  and  food  and  dirt.  Somewhere 
birds  were  probably  singing  in  the  freshness  of  the 
night,  and  boys  and  girls  were  wandering  across 
green  fields  in  the  twilight;  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  this  beyond  the  flickering  blue  light  in  the  street 
that  hovered  outside  the  long  windows  of  Umber's. 

But  far  out  in  the  starlit  sea  a  steamer  was  plung- 


3i2  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

ing  along.  People  moved  up  and  down  the  decks 
in  the  cool  evening  air.  Inside,  groups  chatted 
while  listening  to  the  music  of  the  orchestra;  and 
elderly  gentlemen  smoked  and  played  cards  in  the 
men's  room  and  enjoyed  their  first  drink  of  good 
Scotch  in  many  months.  Florence  and  Max  were 
sitting  together  in  the  main  saloon  talking  with 
some  old  Boston  friends  of  whom  they  had  seen 
very  little  during  the  past  few  years.  Rothwell 
came  and  sat  down  with  them. 

"Shall  we  go  out?"  he  said  to  Florence,  after  a 
time. 

Florence  put  down  a  piece  of  knitting  she  was  at 
work  on  and  followed  Hubert  out  to  the  deck. 
The  night  was  clear ;  the  heaven  luminous  with  stars. 
They  measured  the  length  of  the  boat  several  times 
when  Hubert  suggested  that  they  go  up  to  the  top 
deck,  where  they  could  see  the  stars  and  the  sky 
without  the  annoyance  of  the  light  which  streamed 
from  the  windows  of  the  cabins. 

On  the  upper  deck  they  heard  the  wind  singing 
in  the  rigging  and  watched  the  green  and  red  lights 
)far  ahead  dip  and  rise  with  the  motion  of  the 
steamer.  They  went  to  the  very  front  under  the 
bridge.  Up  from  the  steerage  came  the  song  of  a 
man,  very  indistinct  and  dreamlike  as  the  wind  car- 
ried the  voice  away  from  them.  The  heads  of 
some  men  and  women  could  be  seen  outlined  faintly 
against  the  sea,  looking  out  toward  the  east  which 
meant  home  for  them.  The  night  was  too  cold 
for  phosphorus  on  the  water;  but  the  waves 


KENDALL'S  SISTER  313 

gleamed  and  spread  out  in  white  shimmering  spray 
as  the  boat  plunged  on.  The  spray  was  like  the  re- 
flection of  the  stars  above. 

"Down  there,"  Florence  said,  leaning  over  the 
railing  and  looking  into  the  steerage  quarters,  "they 
are  all  thinking  of  home.  It  makes  me  a  little 
homesick,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  am  glad  to  go 
away.  How  many  of  those  people,  I  wonder,  have 
made  a  success  in  the  new  world." 

"And  do  you  know  what  I  am  thinking  about?" 
Hubert  said,  turning  toward  his  companion. 

"Of  home,  too,  I  suppose,"  Florence  replied,  a 
little  sadly. 

"No;  of  what  an  idiot  I  have  been  all  this  past 
year." 

"Isn't  it  rather  myself  who  has  been  the  idiot?" 
Florence  broke  in. 

"I  ought  to  have  known,"  Hubert  went  on,  "and 
I  suppose  I  did  know  somewhere  deep  down  in  my 
heart,  but  was  too  great  a  fool  to  acknowledge  it, 
that  I  have  been  falling  in  love  with  you." 

Suddenly  the  voice  of  the  man  singing  came  up 
strong  and  clear  from  below,  borne  back  to  them 
on  a  turn  of  the  wind ;  and  to  Florence  all  the  world 
seemed  singing,  echoed  in  that  rising  voice  and 
rushing  through  her  heart  like  a  great  wave  of  hap- 
piness. All  that  she  had  hoped  for  so  long,  all  that 
she  had  almost  given  up  hoping  for,  came  singing 
into  her  soul  like  a  melody  which  the  sea  was  send- 
ing up  to  her. 

Just  then  came  the  sound  of  the  ship's  bells  and 


3i4  KENDALL'S  SISTER 

the  call  from  far  up  in  the  forward  mast,  "All's 
well." 

"Oh,  Hubert,  all  is  well;  I  love  you,"  Florence 
was  just  able  to  murmur,  as  she  was  caught  into 
Rothwell's  arms  and  felt  his  kisses  upon  her  mouth, 
and  in  those  moments  all  the  world  seemed  to 
slip  away  and  only  heaven  was  in  her  vision. 

Later  that  evening,  when  they  were  returning  to 
the  ship's  cabin,  Hubert  said,  "When  we  reach 
Liverpool,  we  must  send  Susan  a  cable  telling  her 
what  has  happened." 

"Yes;  and  then — "  Florence  said. 

"Then  we  will  be  married." 


FINIS 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FAC  LiTY 


A    000048125     9 


